one floo under
by Greyff
Summary: Harry Potter ideas i wrote out to amuse and possibly inspire, no intent to continue. Remember that flames belong in a fireplace except on no-burn days when they aren't allowed at all. thank you.
1. Chapter 1: Competent teacher 1

One Floo Under - -  
Came up with this scene, but couldn't use it and liked it too much to throw away. Anyone wanting to use it and run with it, feel free as long as you send me a link. ^_^

\- -  
I went up to where Harry and his friends were sitting in the hall, not having to feign my excitement.

"Professor?" asked Harry Potter.

"I figured it out," I said, clapping my hands in excitement. "Fascinating. All sorts of new information all from an evening of broom-closet checking."

"Uhm," said a suddenly red Harry.

Hermione simply raised a book so that she was completely concealed behind it.

"Seriously?" asked Ron.

"It wasn't like that," said Harry.

"You got Hermione to put a book down for any length of time?" asked Ron.

"It was an accident," said Harry.

"In a broom closet?" asked Ron.

"Oh, don't jump to conclusions," I said to their friend. "Someone apparently shoved them in and used a locking charm. Five points to whoever did it. Very good work."

A hand shot up.

"Mister Malfoy," said Severus Snape at the head table, facepalming. "How many times must I remind you that Slytherin is supposed to be the House of the cunning?"

"In any case, I just managed to see that wisp of smoke coming from your scar. I did four diagnostic spells and was puzzling over the results until it all suddenly made sense," I told him. Also the rest of the Feasting Hall since everyone was listening at this point, but who cares about such details?

"Uhm, right," said Harry, looking nervously about.

"When Dark Lord You-No-Screw," I began.

"That's 'You-Know-Who'," automatically corrected half the table.

I waved it off. "When the Dark Loaf cast that killing curse and left that scar on your head - there was a magical link formed."

"Professor," began Albus Dumbledore, apparently concerned about some minor trivia.

"Your scar is directly connected via a curse to the Dork Lore," I continued. "However, I had some ideas and it turns out that he can send you pain and unpleasantness - whereas when you feel things like pleasure and affection and genuinely loved - that will go back and hit the You-Know-Hosed right in the nadgers!"

Dead silence, punctuated only when Dumbledore abruptly sat down.

"What, so someone kisses me and Voldemort feels it?" asked Harry.

"No, well, yes, sort of. Except he'd get burned every time you do that," I told him. "Love protection remember?"

"Wait!" said Ron Weasley. "So every time a girl kisses Harry, they basically hit the git with a bludger?"

"More like a small Crucio," I said, beaming at the redhead. He usually wasn't half so clever. Tempted to toss a few points his way as a way of encouraging him.

"Harry, you lucky dog," said Ron. "Every girl who's lost a family member is gonna want to claim yer lips."

"And their fathers will probably want to kill me," bemoaned Harry.

"And if kissing would do such a thing," I continued. "Just imagine next year when you're old enough to start finding broom closets on your own! Why, a full-blown snogging session would be like dipping His-Nose-Butt in boil-causing potion or maybe hitting the Dank Lorry with a Crucio himself. Hell, if you ended up with a makeout session you could probably burn out whatever protection he was using to keep himself tethered in this life."

Harry had already buried his head in his hands. "This can only turn out horribly, I just know it."

"'Tether'?" asked Professor McGonagall.

"Near as I can tell it's the Sorcerer's Hidden Heart gambit," I told her, my enthusiasm for the subject and love of teaching carrying me through. "Snip off some of your life-force and put it in a safe location. Lots of problems with that though. Insanity, lowering competence, less of yourself left behind until you become a fairly two-dimensional cariacture of yourself, and inherently unstable - just to name a few. Dark magic, powerful, but the sort of thing that eventually causes more problems than it solves."

"I'm not familiar with that one," said Minerva McGonagall, looking distasteful about something.

"Oh, it's something in a lot of legends and myths," I explained. "In fact - there's a muggle film that has it in there. One of the 'Sinbad' films from the 1960s or so I think. Don't recall the name off-hand. I think it was the 1960s. Might have been a decade on either side, lot going on then."

"Wait. So, when Hermione kissed Harry she was basically putting a bludger straight into You-Know-Who's privates?" asked Ron, eyes wide as he looked at the book now completely covering the witch's head in question. "You suspected, didn't you? That's why you did it."

There was a vague noise that might have been agreement.

Another brief silence, briefly broken by Minerva McGonagall getting up and stating that Hermione had just gotten Gryffindor another twenty points because if anything could be said to be Gryffindorish behavior - finding a way to remotely kick a Dark Lord between the goal posts was definitely in that category.  
And oddly enough, this would be one of the cases where not a person in the Great Hall even token-protested a point-award. 


	2. Chapter 2: Summons

another scene that wouldn't fit in anything i'd written but keeps coming back.

\- break -

"Well, well, Harry Potter, you thought you were so clever but we captured you easily enough."

Harry sighed. "Seriously? Hire a script writer if you're going to do this. You guys suck."

"So confident, but we have you at our mercy," pointed out one of the twenty Death Eaters in the graveyard. "We have your wand, your friends are nowhere near, the Vicar is nowhere to be found, and-"

Harry drew the gemstone from under the leather wristband that held his now-defunct watch. With the same two fingers, he flicked it towards the crowd. Then he smirked and disappeared.

"What was-" began Lucius Malfoy before the little gem burst open and released the creature sealed within.

There was abruptly a creature there, reptile from the scales but with a horned head. Long claws dug into the ground. It sniffed the air a few times and then looked down at the masked individuals before it.

"He's still here," said Malfoy. "Deal with the beast and find him."

"Some stupid lizard?" asked a Death Eater. "Reducto!"

The red blast hit the lizard, rocking it back under the force of impact.

It got pissed.

Throwing back its head, the beast roared with such fury and power that grass was flattened in a circle twelve feet around it. Then it moved, apparently taking only minor damage as spell after spell slammed into it.

Harry had enlarged his previously shrunken invisibility cloak, knife, and broom. Invisible, free, and now hovering a good hundred feet up - he had absolutely no desire to get any closer.

"AGH! MY SPLEEN!"

Harry was glad Hermione wasn't here. If she had been - most likely she'd be throwing up and giving away her position.

"AVADRA KEDAVRA!"

"ROARRRRRRRRRRRRRRR!"

"AIEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!"

Huh. That was Lucius Malfoy's arm over there, Harry wondered where the rest of him was.

Oh, what did it matter?

Ah, someone finally tried a Finite on the Deathclaw and managed to dispel it back to its world.

Of course, now the four remaining Death Eaters were departing and had apparently forgotten all about him. A wandless spell brought his wand back to him and that was the only thing they had taken that would be difficult to replace.

Well, best he be off before they remembered.

\- take 2 -

"So, Harry Potter, my spies tell me that you have the ability to summon 'heroes' from other worlds," said Lord Voldemort. "I will let you summon one just to prove that I am indeed beyond such trickery."

"My Lord, I do not believe this is a wise choice," offered a Death Eater who sounded just like Lucius Malfoy under that mask. "And it was a single 'hero' though what hero seems entirely random."

"Well, if you insist," said Harry. "Summoning!"

"Wait, what?" asked the skinny-looking man in muggle-clothing.

"Avada Kedavra!" cast Voldemort, instantly killing the fellow. "I expected more. Well, that's enough."

"Grrrr," growled the corpse, turning green and gaining mass rapidly.

"Oh, that's interesting, but ultimately of no use. Avada Kedavra!" cast Voldemort again. "Now where were - how is it still alive?"

The now-much-larger green muggle had staggered under the spell, but now looked absolutely furious.

"Reducto!"  
"Bombarda!"

The spells from two of the Death Eaters impacted the green muggle but the only effect seemed to be that he had just gone from Furious to Enraged-Beyond-All-Reason.

"Avada-" began Voldemort.

Moving quickly, the green man ripped a headstone out of the ground and flung it like a frisbee - going completely through Lord Voldemort and heading off into the distance.

"RAGHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!" declared the Hulk, having determined that the time had come to do something he did very very well indeed. "HULK SMASH!"

"I AM LORD VOLDEMORT, YOU SIMPLE BRUTE!" said the de-legged villain. "A MUGGLE LIKE..."

(BAM BAM BAMMITY BAM, WHAM WHAM WHAM)

* take 3 *

Lord Voldemort blinked at the "summon hero" ability he'd been told about that Harry Potter had developed. Swirling gate forming in mid-air. Nothing that a well-placed Killing Curse couldn't solve, of course, but it WAS intriguing. Looked as if it basically stuck a tube of magical energy into a point smaller than a grain of sand then expanded outward to link a space here with some non-Euclidean space. The part of him that had come to appreciate magic was quite intrigued.

What stepped forth was NOT a hero.

"Harry Potter, did you summon an avatar of Death itself? That IS rather impressive for one of your age," admitted Lord Voldemort. "Avada Kedavra."

The beam hit the skeleton in the elaborate robe and fizzled.

"As I am already undead," said the skeleton, "that doesn't work so well. I heard the call that someone was calling themselves an all-powerful dark wizard. I am Ainz Ooal Gown, and I would like to see how your magic matches against my own."

"My Lord, let ME deal with this-" began the smooth voice of Lucius Malfoy.

"Thousand Bone Lance," said Ainz Ooal Gown, making a sweeping motion with one bony hand. There were brief screams as most of the Death Eaters were suddenly transfixed with sharpened bone spears. "It is quite annoying when the small fry interrupt their betters, isn't it?"  
"What?" asked Lucius Malfoy, realizing he was very nearly alone at this point.

"You, on the other hand," said Ainz, pointing. "You volunteered to demonstrate what I'm going to do to your master if he fails to interest me. This is going to hurt, so be ready for it."

"Maybe if I kill your summoner... where did Potter go?" asked Lord Voldemort.

"Oh, he left awhile ago, prudent of him," said Ainz, turning away from the pulsing green pustule that still wore Lucius Malfoy's face. "Now. I believe the appropriate phrase is 'come at me, bro' or something like that."

* break *

"Well, he's gone," said Harry. "I felt my summon return. So that's it."

"Harry, your scar is bleeding," pointed out Ron.

"So, you summoned a great hero?" asked Dumbledore.

"More an anti-hero, I think," said Harry. "I don't have any control over who shows up, after all. I just knew it had to be someone fairly strong."

* break * 


	3. Chapter 3: Competent teacher 2

"Sorry I'm a bit late," said the oddly dressed man. "Was investigating something I'd heard about. Professional interest."

"One normally shows up on time for an important job interview," stated Professor McGonagall. "If not early."

"As I said - professional interest," said the man. "You wanted a competent Defense Against the Dark Arts instructor. So when I heard there was a curse on the position, I had to investigate."

"No one has been able to find it before now," stated Dumbledore, looking down at the scroll in front of him.

"Oh, I found it," said the man. "Very clever work, finally found it in the offices. Gradual influence, dark thoughts and intents as a primary effect, secondary is the usual sort of bad luck curse. If the influence portion didn't take for whatever reason, the secondary effects would start ratcheting up as time went on. Best you could likely manage is a one-year term without one or both hitting the target."

Professor McGonagall put down her bottle of Irn Bru. "You found it?"

"It's tied to someone's life - so as long as they avoid death it'll be a stone cold to remove," stated their DADA candidate. "I'm planning on writing the details up and sending it all on to Amelia Bones. I'd think a couple of Unspeakables might be quite interested in it."

"You found it but didn't remove it?" asked McGonagall. "Why are you leaving it?"

"The muggles have something called a 'temporary tattoo'," said the DADA candidate. "Did up one that mimics the code needed to avoid being a target."

The two watched as their DADA applicant rolled up the sleeve of his trenchcoat and then the sleeve underneath, revealing a skull and snake image.

"That's the Dark Mark," said McGonagall. "Except the snake normally isn't smiling, have bug-eyes, or wear a sailor's hat. Nor does the skull normally have waggling thick eyebrows while rolling his eyes."

"Well, I may have made a few artistic modifications," stated the trenchcoat-wearer. "It was entirely too emo for me. Or goth. I don't goth."

"Be that as it may, I think we should go over your qualifications," said McGonagall. "It says here that you have no actual teaching experience and that you are recovering from injuries that were inflicted in the field?"

"South America," stated the trenchcoat-wearer. "Vampires, an eldritch abomination masquerading as an Aztec god, and worse."

Minerva McGonagall blinked. "Worse?"

"Clowns. I hate clowns. Also mimes, but these were clowns."

"Ah, quite so," said Minerva, clearly not understanding but apparently deciding it was too troublesome to probe further on that.

"What sort of 'eldritch abomination'?" asked Albus Dumbledore.

"Cthulhoid entity, type IV," said the trenchcoat-wearer.

"Ah," said Albus Dumbledore. "Those are nasty."

"I had help," said the DADA applicant.

"I have a pensieve," pondered Albus aloud. "It might do for your qualifications if we could see that."

*** (much later scene)

"Hmmm," I said, nodding as I pondered the Goblet and one of my students and the possible repercussions.

"What?" asked Harry Potter, sounding flustered.

"You were doing that 'hundred-meter stare' thing again," explained Hermione Granger.

"Oh," I said. "Just a moment." A quick gesture and some paperwork appeared on the nearest table. I quickly pulled out my pen and began scribbling things out. "You said his middle name was 'Marvolo', right?"

"Uhm, what are you doing?" asked Harry.

"Oh, filling out paperwork to indicate a 'Tom Marvolo Riddle' has some remedial classes to take," I told the children. Since I was currently the Defense Against The Dark Arts instructor, that WAS within my authority.

"You're bringing Lord Voldemort back to Hogwarts?" asked an incredulous Harry.

"No, I'm making him a student again," I said. Then I made another quick charm, summoning paperwork from wherever it got stored. As an instructor, this also was within my authority.

"Why would you do THAT?!" asked Hermione Granger.

I quickly took the signature off the essay and transferred it to a slip of paper, then sent it over to the Goblet of Fire. "That's why."

"I don't get it," said Ron Weasley.

"What was the second rule of magical combat that I put forward on the first day of class?" I asked. Teachable moment and all.

"You said 'any advantage you can steal or borrow or make - is a fair advantage'?" asked Harry.

"No," corrected Hermione. "It was 'use the environment to your advantage' - but I... oh."

"Right," I told the three. "Not much chance of it happening, but if his name comes out of that cup and he doesn't show - he'll lose his magic. Which would certainly give Harry here an advantage later on, wouldn't it?"


	4. Chapter 4: Goemon 1

i've seen several SI fics, some quite amusing and inventive. Thought of an approach i haven't seen, and so wrote a bit of it up in case it inspires anyone to give it a go. minor additions made 7/31/17 and for some reason the page break symbols keep get deleted.

I died.

Not an unusual event, all things considered. Once I did actually die though, memories of my life before began to fade. Understandable as memories were stored in the brain and it looked like I'd gotten mine spattered across a fair amount of pavement.

I couldn't even get angry at my killer, apparently not having a limbic system and floating above one's corpse could allow one a certain degree of detachment from the whole thing. Just another robbery, another death, another wrong time and wrong place and so on and so forth. That said, I wasn't going to immediately go hug my murderer and suggest a fine round of singing "Kum-bi-ya" or anything of the sort. I was still a bit put out by the whole thing and wasn't this terribly inconvenient. I still had so many books I wanted to read, one of which had been in my backpack and had just been thrown into the street by the murderer.

Well, now what? Clearly there was an afterlife, I'd been pretty sure there had been despite the lack of physical evidence. Nice to have one's theories validated, even if it was after one's final moments. Wouldn't exactly expect physical evidence though, not at our primitive level of technology considering that the early 21st Century in America still didn't even have the damn flying cars we'd been promised in earlier ages.

So, here I was. Waiting for the light to show up. Or the dark. To loosely paraphrase Will Rogers, I was rather hoping I would be sent to the good place and to truly be the good place - I was expecting to be reunited with at least one of my dogs. How could any version of heaven be properly heavenly if your best friend wasn't around?

As I drifted there, I became aware of a familiarity. I'd done this before. Which meant I might end up reincarnating? Well, hopefully things would go better than this last time. Fifty plus years of fail, pain, and making entirely the wrong step. Sure, in my chosen profession over the years I'd managed to help a lot of people and contributed to saving quite a few lives. Didn't pay worth a crap, and was stressful as all get out. No personal life unless you counted MMORPGs and I certainly didn't count those.

Ah. A tug. Good. I was being pulled from my current location. I was-

A test. A test to join the Reality Relief Office, an organization aligned with but seperate from the Heavenly Bureaucracy. A group of misfits that for one reason or another didn't make it or rejected Heaven and didn't deserve Hell.

Failure.

And now I was-

Great. I'm a magic item. A soul bound to a magical item to give it power and intelligence. A pseudo-life. A Mid-Childan Intelligent Device, something that combines an AI advanced computer with a magic wand and weapon/defense system. Okay, could be worse. At least I get to go on adventures and be of use - right?

I end up sitting on a shelf for a dozen years, fortunately my nature meant I could go to minimal power and just be vaguely aware of things. Then I was sold. And re-saled. Finally ended up with some cadet whose first Device had been busted in some misadventure. Just as I'm about to finally get used and be brought up to full activation...

I get dropped. Off the side of a ship that is cruising through parallel universes.

Well. This certainly sucks.

I snap to full awareness, though without a wielder that's going to drain my battery-equivalents fast.

Maybe I can influence my flight a bit. Find the threads like so, look for someone to wield me. I am way too freaking tired of being on a shelf. Someone with enough power to keep me going when my internal storage drains from the effort.

There. This universe has the markings of someone caught up in epic quests, magic, and the like.

Yes. Here's a typical Main Character or Protagonist. As a Mid-Childan Intelligent Device, all I need is the power of someone to tap into.

This one looks suitable.

Harry stared at the little gemstone. "Did you... talk?!"

[Confirmed.]

Harry took off his glasses, stared at them briefly, then put them back on. "What are you?"

[This unit is an Intelligent Device, code name 'Goemon'.]

Harry marveled at the way the computerized lettering just appeared on his glasses, remaining briefly before fading away. "So you're... some kind of computer I guess?"

[Affirmative.]

"You must be pretty valuable then. Who owns you?" asked Harry.

[You.]

"It can't be me," insisted Harry. "I'm just Harry Potter. I'm nobody."

[Harry Potter has magical core of sufficient power to maintain current level of operation.]

"But magic isn't real," said Harry.

[Harry Potter magical core insufficient at current development to manifest effects.]

"You're saying I can do magic but I haven't got enough magic to actually do anything?" Harry was skeptical, but this thin hope started building up within him despite himself. "What would I need to do to get more magic then?"

[Beginning magical core exercise program.]

Harry felt a slight pull on something, but couldn't tell what it was from. "That's you."

[Affirmative.]

"It doesn't feel like much actually," offered Harry. "I better hide you. My Aunt & Uncle don't like things that stand out."

Symbols wrote themselves and vanished across the lower part of his glasses briefly, to be replaced by a single word.

[Working.]

"What does that mean?" asked Harry.

[Using current low level drain on magical core to access databanks.]

"That isn't much clearer," pointed out the eight-year-old.

[Solution to problem found.]

[Expressing disbelief that Mid-Childan databank has ninjutsu section.]

[Working out means of translating chakra cost to local equivalent.]

[Using technique to hide Harry Potter impossible at current level.]

[Using technique to hide Goemon possible. Activating.]

"You just turned invisible but I can still feel you," said Harry, running his thumb over the odd gemstone. The potential applications of this ability, particularly when Dudley got his friends together for Harry-hunting, immediately struck him. "You say this exercise thing will make you eventually so you can make me entirely invisible?"

[Principal of magical exercise same as for physical training.]

[Use of magic drain followed by periods of rest should increase magical reserves.]

[Possible to use inertial field to stimulate physical development. Do?]

"Uhm, let's try it," suggested Harry. He immediately felt it, as if his body was surrounded by a slightly resistant presence. "Can you shut it off whenever I need to move faster?"

[Affirmative. Unable to maintain field in any case more than five minutes per hour.]

[This is due to both energy constraints and physical development of Master.]

"Don't call me 'Master', Goemon. I'm Harry," said Harry. "I suppose we'll see. There any way you can do it so you don't get lost?"

[Affirmative.]

*page break*

It had taken a year to get where he felt confident with the use of these abilities.

"Ninja art," whispered Harry as he touched the gemstone stuck to the inside of his glasses near one hinge. "Transparency."

[Ninpo: Touton Jutsu] read the acknowledgment from Goemon.

Harry lifted an arm as it shifted and went to slight prism effect near the edges.

[Technique upgrade available. Meisaigakure No Jutsu.]

Harry considered that, then discarded it. The spell, or jutsu or technique or whatever you wanted to call it, just caused him and everything he had with him to turn nearly invisible. It didn't do anything about hearing. Dogs could still smell him. If he walked through mud or snow - he'd leave tracks.

He watched as Dudley and his friends came running past him, coming to a stop a good five meters past his position.

"Damn it," said Dudley. "I told you. You can't let him get out of sight - he's too damn good at hiding."

"He wuns too fast," said one of Dudley's friends. Nigel Fudd. Someone who was even bigger than Dudley. Also someone who, at the unlikely age of ten years of age, was already looking as if he'd need to start shaving sometime soon. Also, due to a bit of a scar on his lips, someone who had trouble with 'r' sounds. "Like some wascally wabbit."

"Oi, Dudley, why are we even bothering with yer little cousin anyway? He's a bit of a challenge to find, but ain't we gots better things to do with our time?" asked the lanky-looking other member of Dudley's gang, taking a deep drag of a pilfered cigarette and then coughing horribly.

"And I'm telling you to lay off them clove cigarettes, we ain't no emo gang," said Dudley. "I'm a thief and a bully and a ne'er do well but you got to have SOME standards."

There came a sound as of the baying of some hound. A big one.

"Wha' tha hell was that?!" said Nigel.

"Just some dog," said Dudley.

Harry blinked as a new message popped up on the section of his glasses which normally served as Goemon's display.

[Warning: Hostile entity detected. Distance 600m. Scanning.]

Harry felt the slight drain on his magic increase a bit. A year ago that might have knocked him out, but he had made a lot of progress over that time.

[Danger! Hostile Entity identified. Likely drawn by high magical field.]

[Hostile Entity identified as Hellhound.]

"Crap," said Harry softly.

"Dudley? Why does that Doberman have HORNS?" asked Sam, the clove cigarette dropping from his fingers.

"Nice doggie?" tried Dudley, backing slowly away.

"WUN!" called out Nigel, turning his back and starting to run away.

The beast crossed fast, a blur to Dudley's eyes, clearly heading towards the largest of the three boys.

Harry found himself moving, and a thought to the gemstone in his pocket was a wordless demand.

[Goemon. Set Up. 10% Activation.]

[Zokyo No Jutsu.]

[Augmentation percentage set at 300%.]

[Maximum Duration: 3 minutes.]

Dudley Dursley was absolutely sure he was dead. A Doberman was scary enough. A Doberman with horns, breathing little bits of fire? VERY scary. And while he could privately admit he wasn't the brightest kid in class, he remembered something about not turning your back on predators. Mind you - he mainly remembered that because he fancied himself to be a predator.

Now Nigel had started to run away and was being pursued by some wild dog that looked to mass around five times what he did and he was NOT a small child. It leapt up, knocking Nigel to the ground and looked as if it was about to take a big bite of the fallen boy's neck.

Harry appeared suddenly, leaping from one tree in the schoolyard and slamming into the dog with enough force that the big dog was bowled over and rolled a good two meters and change.

Dudley stopped what he was doing as he saw something COMPLETELY unfamiliar.

The dog got up, teeth bared and snarling. It charged, going from stopped to flat out and sending dirt and leaves flying from underfoot.

Harry backhanded it, acting like the dog was going slow motion or something. "BAD DOG!"

The dog cartwheeled through the air, ending its flight against a tree. A moment later it erupted into flames and vanished.

Dudley gaped. Harry never fought back. Dudley was thinking now it was a very very good thing that Harry had never fought back.

"Dudley? Your cousin is a superhero like in those Yank comics? And ye never told us?" asked Sam.

"Well, uhm," began Dudley.

"I think I need to change me pants," said a very shaky Nigel.

Harry ran towards a building, leaped up to the roof, and vanished.

"Dudley? Ye said the boy's parents died in a car accident or something?" asked Sam. "Maybe it was supervillains or something. And we're supposed to be beating him up as part of the cover-up for his secret identity and such?"

Dudley nodded, because he wasn't going to admit ignorance and this was the best explanation for what he'd just seen that had presented itself.

"Brilliant!" exclaimed Sam. He had always been one for reading them foreign comics and such, and originally he'd just joined Dudley's gang because that kept him from being made fun of for having a nose as protruding as his own was.

"Uhm, yeah," tried Dudley. "I just didn't know you two could keep a secret is all."

"Mum's the word then," said Sam. He didn't fancy the idea of being tortured by supervillains or anything. "Research. I gotta do research."

"Reading them foreign comics you mean," said Dudley, though the idea sounded appealing all of a sudden. Even if it involved reading. He was going to have to figure out what he needed to do to avoid large fire-breathing dogs in the future at the very least.

*page break*

Harry hid behind an air-conditioner and summed up the situation. "Ow ow ow ow ow."

[Augment places a strain on your body.]

"No kidding."

[Practice will reduce physical stress.]

[Activating Regeneration.]

"Ahhhhh," said Harry as he felt the healing kick in.

[Three minute duration. Give two minutes downtime after.]

"Right," said Harry, leaning back as the warmth flowed through him. All too soon the feeling cut off and he felt Goemon go into "rest mode" to recover the storage thing.

Hibernation Mode or Rest Mode was rather like being half-asleep. I was aware, vaguely, of presences nearby without a whole lot of identification other than mental state. I was also aware of Harry's mental state and well-being - as his magic fed a lot of that to me as he gradually filled those reserves.

It had gotten to the point where he hardly felt this level of drain at all, which was quite promising. Given his current rate of development, a full activation for more than a few minutes was only a year or so away.

I came fully awake when the reserves had refilled to 25% at the two minute mark.

[Are you ready for Flight Mode?]

"Wait, 'flight'?" asked Harry, thinking that idea sounded like it would be a lot of fun.

[Current linker core output sufficient for flight.]

[Unable to maintain Barrier Jacket and Flight for more than five minutes.]

[Current reserves at 25%.]

"What do I need to do?" asked Harry.

*page break*

just more of that "what if they had a truly competent DADA teacher" concept.

I noticed the class had settled down, though one slick-haired boy was glaring daggers at the young man I knew to be one Harry Potter. Several of the students looked a bit put-out or nervous about something.

Well, good enough. I threw a handful of chalk dust at the board and when it fell away the first part of my lesson plan was seen written there.

Nobody recognized the spell I used - mainly because there was no spell involved.

"RULES OF DEFENSE:  
1 - Any advantage you can steal or borrow or make - is a fair advantage.  
2 - Be aware of and use your environment.  
3 - That which does not kill you the first time should not get a second chance.  
4 - It's always easier to curse than to cure, easier to break something than to repair it, easier to harm than heal.  
5 - Anything that can go wrong will go wrong, and usually will do so when it can cause the most mess.  
6 - If you're not cheating, you're not trying hard enough.  
7 - One person can keep a secret, two people might be able to keep a secret, after that - it's no longer secret.  
8 - There are counterspells for nearly everything, so always keep a few unexpected surprises handy."  
"Oh! Oh!" said a bushy-haired girl.

"You have a question?" I asked.

"You shouldn't use 'make' there because it doesn't flow well and borrow should be the first option if you're going with order of choice, and then there's the Fidelius Charm which can remain secret even if several people have been told, and..."

I started shaking my head at the first point and then interrupted her with a glance upwards and a hopeless spread of hands. The girl's voice trailed off thereafter.

"This is not a grammar class. Minus five points from Gryffindor. We are not concerned with diction and poetic flow of verbiage. This is Defense Against the Dark Arts. Second, they are given in no particular order because a battlefield is a place of chaos and seizing any chance of survival should be your primary concern if not your only concern. Another five points from Gryffindor. The Fidelius Charm is tricky but can be overcome by certain methods - see also Rule Number Eight. Another five points from Gryffindor. Now then. Are there any actual questions?"

The girl turned nearly white, then red, then stood up and all-but-shouted. "That's completely unfair! How can you justify a fifteen point penalty?!"

"One, we only have an hour class and you've already wasted precious time on something that should be addressed in a class dealing with grammar. Two - you missed the entire point of the list. It's defense. In the case of this class, that is staying alive when someone or something is trying to kill you or worse. Third, you seem to think I'm a muggle teacher. I am not. Though I am teaching and therefore a Professor, that is a title. I am a professional curse-breaker and researcher by trade. I am simply here because there's some stuff I want to research and this school provides a fairly stable location to do that in my spare time."

"Oh, so you're actually experienced in fighting off monsters and dark wizards," said a redheaded boy.

"Precisely," I said, then decided to lessen the load on their shared house. "Five points for Gryffindor but don't just interrupt again in the future. Now, let's start with Rule One and hold your hand up when ready to answer. If a dark wizard were to attack you while you were in the Hogwarts train station - what kind of advantage could you make?"

We were discussing various spells when one of the green-trims asked a question that kind of indicated how this class would be in the future. "What about unforgiveables?"

I considered the slick-backed-hair child for a moment, then nodded. "Fair enough. I'm guessing you mean the Killing Curse. Avada Kedavra. Some people consider it a go-to spell. Except it's slow. The beam can be dodged or blocked or avoided. If it hits, yes - instant death. Unless you're magically resistant due to something in your ancestry. If you try using it against a nundu, you'll likely die as the spell fizzles and the nundu decides you are the most dangerous thing there. If you try it against an Elder Being, your results may vary but don't expect it to turn out at all well."

"Wait. 'Elder Things'?" asked Draco Malfoy, the slicked-back-hair kid from earlier.

There were many confused looks, so I expounded just a tad. "Seventh year stuff. There are Things in or about or alongside this world. Things that are best left alone. I fought one in South America, had a lot of help and high-powered help at that. It was pretty damn iffy but we managed to seal the crack in reality it came through. Ah, judging from your complexion Miss Granger has an idea of what I'm talking about."

"Lovecraft?" asked Hermione Granger. "But he was just a muggle writer, wasn't he?"

"Miss Granger," I told the young lady, "you'll find that not all muggles are clueless or stupid. Some will stumble upon or even dream of Things That Are. Mister Lovecraft got some details wrong, but he did get some details right. You needn't worry though. Even He-Who-Must-Not-Get-Any wouldn't touch that sort of thing in his most insane moments."

"Wait? 'He-Who-Must-Not-Get-Any'? Any what?" asked one of the eleven year olds.

"Oh, that fellow Moldyshorts," I answered. "The last attempt at the whole 'conquer-the-magical-world' villain-type."

"You mean 'He Who Must Not Be Named'?" asked one of the green-trims.

"Like I said," I answered with a dismissive shrug. "Baldy-warts or 'You-Know-Boob' or whatever term people are throwing about nowadays. I can't be expected to keep track of whatever slang is going on nowadays. I'm a curse-breaker, researcher, monster-slayer, and at least temporarily a teacher. Keeping up with the latest hippie-hop music or fashion trend isn't something I'm particularly good at. Now back to the subject - yes. There are things that are going to be annoyed if you attack them directly with something like that. Not to mention the Killing Curse has some unfortunate side-effects that make it further not a good choice to use."

"Side effects? If it hits you, you're dead," said Draco.

"Five points from Slytherin," I called out as the child had NOT raised his hand. It also wiped the smirk from his face. "I didn't address you nor did you raise your hand, Mister Malfoy. Nonetheless, I'll answer. It does not cause side-effects in the victim. The side-effects are caused to the caster of the spell. To get into more detail will have to wait until third year at the very least. It's almost time for class to end and I have to speak with Mister Hagrid about some lovely possibilities for Care Of Magical Creatures that my connections will allow me to acquire temporarily for his classes. Which all of you will have a chance at in your third year I believe."

"Creatures?" asked one of the Slytherin students.

"Oh yes," I answered the girl. "Lovely chance for the current third years to meet up with a mujina of fair power. A Japanese magical badger with shapeshifting and earth-based elemental magic. Quite useful really if you can bargain with such."

"Is that part of your research?" asked the same girl.

"Oh no. Which reminds me. Anyone wishing a bit of extra credit should contact me later for research purposes. One of my associates from South America presented me with a conundrum that I'm trying to answer. It has a lot of potential, depending on what the answer ends up being."

Bushy-hair stuck her hand up. "What is the question?"

"The spellcasters in the time of the Founders accomplished great wonders, not seen today," I told her and hence the rest of the class. "Locally, a number of people blame muggle-born for using up their magic as if magic is a limited resource and for one to have more another must have less. Others blame the gradual loss of spells to the hoarding of knowledge and loss of family grimoires. I've heard the theory that inbreeding has lowered the magical talent as practically everyone in Magical Britain is related to everyone else. I've also heard that the world has a fixed amount of magic and that using magic slowly drains away what's there - eventually leading to the collapse of magic as that reservoir will simply be depleted one day with no way to refill it. There are other theories as well, but those are the first set I'll either prove or disprove."

There were a number of wide eyes and horrified expressions but that was when the bell rung and I had other places to be.


	5. Chapter 5: Competent teacher 3

just more "competent DADA teacher" scenes i can't use. The sections deal with Hagrid's Care Of Magical Creatures class specifically.

"Wonder what Hagrid's got for us," said Harry.

"Whatever it is," said Ron, "it's bound to be more interesting than whatever Hermione's doing in Divination."

"Right," agreed Harry as the paddock came into view. There was Hagrid. There was their Defense teacher. And there was... a very odd-looking girl.

She was white tinted blue. Her skin was a pale white with a faint blue tint. Her hair was long enough to hang around her hips and it was white with bluish edging. Her lips were considerably more blue and ice-blue eyes looked over the approaching students with a certain wariness.

Despite the heat of early fall around them, there was snow on the ground around her.

"Greetings class," called out Hagrid as the last stragglers arrived. "Today we're talking about a couple of magical creatures - though some would call Miss Oyuki here a Class Double-X Beast, in her homeland she's considered a Being. Nice to have a friend like her."

"What's so special about some deformed-" began Draco Malfoy.

A snowball hit him in the face, interrupting whatever he was about to say.

Harry blinked, then a slow grin appeared on his face.

Draco wiped the snowball off his face. "You'll pay for that! When my father hears-"

Another snowball hit him in the face.

"Christmas has come early this year," said a delighted Ron Weasley.

"Bit of a learning curve, that one," said the Defense teacher to Hagrid.

Spitting out snow, Draco glared at the girl. He hadn't seen her move, but where else could that have come from. This time he held an arm in front of his face to block. "You have no idea who you are-"

Two snowballs hit, one on each side of Draco's head, simultaneously. Many of the accompanying Slytherins immediately started moving AWAY from the boy despite the usual House solidarity.

"-dealing with," finished Draco. "When my-"

There was a loud "foompf" sound as suddenly enough snow to half-bury the Slytherin was suddenly dumped on the Malfoy heir without an apparent source.

Hagrid turned to the Defense teacher. "You know. You might just have something there."

"I am the Heir of the Noble House of Malfoy and -" began Draco.

Another load of snow coalesced out of thin air as Harry watched with a gleeful expression and dumped itself on Draco Malfoy. Now he was completely buried.

"Okay," said the Defense teacher. "Lesson one for today. If you don't know what you're facing, be polite. Particularly if the magical creature or being is capable of understanding human speech."

The snow pile began breaking apart as Draco fought his way out, wand out and held in a shaky hand. "You shall rue-"

There was an odd sound as ice formed around Draco's wand and upper arm.

"Mister Malfoy, you just escalated the situation," said the Defense teacher. "If this were my class I'd be deducting points."

"You suppose I should?" asked Hagrid.

"It's your class," pointed out the Defense teacher.

"My father will..." began Draco.

Ice formed around his mouth but left his nose alone.

The girl with the snow asked something in her native language.

"Can I get her name?" asked Harry Potter, sticking his hand up. "I want to send her something at Christmas."

"Ami Yukino, though she goes by Oyuki as that is a common name for her kind," said the Professor.

"Right," said Hagrid. "Oyuki here is a 'yukionna' or snow-woman from Japan and related areas. They be kind of like the veela in that they intermarry with humans. They have power over cold, as Mister Malfoy here can prolly attest."

"MFFFFFFFFF!" declared the shivering Draco Malfoy.

"Ah, quit yer bellyachin'," said Hagrid. "She coulda frozen the blood in yer veins, causing ya to burst like some overripe pimple. She didn't though. Just a bit o' demonstration. Ah, lass. If ye could free him? I think the wee lad is a bit chilled at the moment."

"Awwww," over-dramatized Harry. And, strangely enough, Daphne Greengrass did the same thing.

The ice around Draco's wand hand and mouth started dissolving. Draco glared at everyone, strangely enough his glare at Greengrass was more hostile than the one he turned on Harry Potter.

"Might want to cast a couple of warming charms on him," suggested Hagrid. "Now. Can anyone tell me how ye should approach a yukionna if ye run into one in the country?"

Draco opened his mouth.

"Besides Malfoy there," appended Hagrid.

"Hello, I'm Harry Potter, and I think that was a lovely demonstration," said Harry, still grinning.

"Tha's right," said Hagrid. "Be polite. In general, being polite to anything dangerous and capable of understanding human speech is a good first approach."

MUCH later:

"What's on today's lesson plan, Hagrid?" asked Harry, idly wondering why Draco Malfoy was even bothering to show up since he apparently had ZERO interest in actually caring for anything. Actually, Harry mused to himself, he rather doubted Draco Malfoy had the capacity to take care of a muggle houseplant.

"Oi, got something special for ye," said Hagrid. "These ain't common either. Everyone say hello to Hissa."

"That's a runespoor," pointed out Daphne Greengrass.

"Yes, yes it is," agreed Hagrid.

"Finally, a beast worth studying," declared Draco Malfoy.

"Runespoors are sometimes used as pets or guardians or both," Hagrid informed them. "It's the third head ye got to worry about. Poisonous and all. Also a bit of a sharp tongue to him."

"It's poisonous?" asked Ron, who'd been leaning forward and now was most definitely not.

"Right-e-o," said Hagrid. "Snakes are generally either constrictors, which grab their prey with their bodies and then crush them, or are poisonous. Excepting in Australia o' course."

"Australia?" asked Ron, still eyeing the runespoor.

"Everythin' in Australia is either dangerous, poisonous, or sheep. And there be at least one magical species that's all three. Sometimes." Hagrid nodded to himself. Magical creatures WAS one of his passions after all.

Ron started picturing a poisonous and dangerous killer sheep and decided not to go to Australia.

"Hello there," said Harry to the three-headed snake, remembering that he'd spoken to that one at the zoo.

"Runespoor can't talk, Harry," said Hagrid. "Though Hissa here is a pet and magical guardian type. Actually on loan from Professor Sinistra - didn't know she even had one till we gots to talkin'. She can prolly understand a few things by now, I expect."

"'A few things' he says," grumbled the runespoor far left head. "Poor Hissa, everyone misunderstands."

"Except Mistress," countered the runespoor's middle head.

"Can I get a nap yet?" added the third head.

-another session altogether-

"A Meliae!" exclaimed one of the Gryffindor girls, clapping her hands excitedly.

"Five points to Gryffindor," said Hagrid happily.

The guys were staring at a very shapely woman with green skin and hair nodded and gave a thumb's up at the Gryffindor who'd identified her.

"Meliae are fairly rare," said Hagrid. "Most of 'em are found in Greece. Like kitsune and veela and yukionna and sirens and such, they tend to get in with human families. Anyone want to hazard a guess why wizard families are usually glad to have 'em?"

"Isn't it obvious," offered Malfoy. "As servants to a noble wizard family."

There was a cracking noise and there was quite suddenly a tree there and a startled yelp from Draco who was now ten feet up in the branches. Fifteen feet. Twenty feet.

"Oi, that be enough, Ivy. He got an idea I think," said Hagrid. "Oi. Mister Malfoy. Professor Snape wanted me to remind ye that Slytherin is supposed to be about cunning."

Daphne Greengrass stepped forward and addressed the Meliae. "Hello, Ivy. I'd like to apologize for Draco here. I think his parent dropped him on his head when he was a child."

"Hey!" protested someone up a tree.

"As to your question, Professor," said Daphne. "Meliae are Greek nature spirits. So they'd likely dwell in a garden or around a farm and their magic would allow for bountiful crops."

"Excellent, Miss Greengrass is it? They got talents especially useful for that sort o' thing." Hagrid nodded. "Now. Who needs a demonstration?"

There was a loud thud as Draco landed on his buttocks.

"I don't think further demonstrations will be entirely necessary," said Daphne Greengrass drily.

-later that same year-

"Unicorns, Hagrid?" asked Harry, doing his best to ignore how most of the girls were cooing and trying to get the attention of the silvery beast in the paddock.

"Well, I was talkin' to that Perfesser who was suggestin' I work me way up to interestin' stuff like hippogriffs and lamia," said Hagrid.

"Seems to be working," commented Harry.

"Enough!" said Draco Malfoy."I'll show this beast who is..."

WHAM!

Harry blinked. "That's..."

"Oh. Daphne Greengrass be working extra credit with the Defense Professer," said Hagrid. "Apparently in Japan there's a number of gals who know that spell. Doesn't do permanent damage."

"She imbedded Draco Malfoy into the ground with an enormous mallet," said Harry.

"Yer point?" asked Hagrid.

"She did it very well, but she could use a little work on the follow through," commented Harry.

"You know, that's a very scary spell," noted Ron. "I hope Hermione never learns it."

-end of year-

Harry's conversation with Ron trailed off as he noted that the paddock at Hagrid's hut had been altered.

"Blimey," commented Ron. "What's up with all the teachers? And the Headmaster? And, ain't that Draco's dad?"

"That's my Aunt Amelia," commented Susan Bones, waving a little uncertainly at a woman with a monacle who looked VERY serious.

"Professors from Divination, Defense, Transfiguration, Charms," summed up Daphne Greengrass as she and her friend from Slytherin edged closer. "Potter, you have any idea what the extra security's for?"

"It's near the end of the term, so I'm guessing we've got a really really dangerous creature here today," said Harry, checking around. "Look. They've got wards and runes up around the paddock. What do you suppose that white stuff is they've encircled the paddock with."

Daphne craned her neck forward and squinted. "The white line looks like salt. The reddish black I'm not sure of."

"Cold iron," said Tracey Davis. "Cold iron flakes and shards. My family sold some to Hogwarts last month."

"Father?" asked Draco, upon seeing his father there.

"Right," said Hagrid as he stepped forward. "Now, none of you disturb those lines of dust."

"Or the wards, runes, or other protections we've put up," said Professor Vector, the Arithmancy teacher looking even more severe than usual.

"Perfesser," said Hagrid, nodding to the Defense teacher.

A gesture and a flickering image began to appear in the paddock.

"An illusion?" scoffed Draco. "You're putting on this show for an IMAGE? Clearly the senility of the staff..."

"Draco, my beloved son," said Lucius Malfoy. "Shut up."

Draco turned pale and shut up, clearly completely shocked by the statement.

"This here is an image of something called an Elder," said Hagrid. "Since our Defense Professor is the only one to face one around here, he's doing an image of one. It'll take a wee bit because it's a tricky thing. Now, the BAD thing about this is that just showing you lot the image might cause the Elder to take control of the image and manifest a bit of itself."

"An elder what?" asked one of the Slytherins.

"They're called a buncha names," said Hagrid. "Many-angled-ones. They That Came Before. Outsiders. Elder Gods. Beyonders - though that gets confused with something else altogether and was mainly used back in the 1920s or 1930s or so."

"It's a cat," said Ron, very disappointed.

"This is one of the more innocuous ones," said the Defense teacher. "This one, if it does appear, we can placate and send on. It's also hideously powerful or completely not - depending on how much of itself it sends into our universe."

"'Placate'?" asked Daphne.

"This one fancies itself the god of pranks and mischief," explained Dumbledore. "Not to say it wouldn't be considerably dangerous."

"How is THAT supposed to be dangerous?" asked Draco, forgetting his father's instructions. "Professor McGonagall's animagus form looks scarier."

The cat-image's head swiveled towards Draco and cocked to the side.

"Oh crap. I didn't do that," said the Defense teacher.

"Seriously?" mocked Draco, ignoring the look his father was giving him. He would prove himself in front of his father! "That little kitten wouldn't even-"

There was a sudden sound as if the universe itself had passed wind.

Draco blinked as he was suddenly INSIDE the wards and the paddock.

"Draco," said Lucius with all the intensity he could. "Sign no deals. Make no promises. Do not threaten. Do not beg. It would be best if you said or did nothing at all."

"What could an illusion of a kitten with a plaid collar do?" asked a disbelieving Draco. "Spit a hairball on me?"

"Would you prefer a different appearance then?" asked the kitten. "I can do that."

"Everyone look AWAY!" yelled Albus Dumbledore, who was not nearly so senile that he couldn't see what was about to happen.

Naturally, half the students followed the order.

A quarter merely closed their eyes.

There were a lot of screams and gagging noises from those who did neither and were merely curious about what was going on.

"I TAKE IT BACK! I TAKE IT BACK!" screamed Draco.

"Oh. You're no fun," said the Being. "Maybe I could borrow a line from that other universe. Hmmm. Do you want to be a magical girl?"

"NO!" declared Draco.

"Did you drop a golden axe or a silver axe?"

"NO!" repeated Draco, who had his eyes closed and ears covered and was discovering that he could STILL hear this thing talk.

"You could become Prince?"

"Really... NO!" declared Draco, realizing he'd almost fallen for that even if he didn't know that Prince was a muggle singer.

"Gonna be a tough sell. Say, since you're the only child of the once-bigger clan - how about fertility? So you can bear lots and lots of kids when the time comes."

"That doesn't sound so bad," admitted Draco.

"NOW!" declared one of the teachers.

FWUMPF!

Every student suddenly found themselves wiping pie off their face.

There was a brief laugh and the cat-image faded away.

"Why were we even doing that?" grumbled Lucius Malfoy, tossing back a gulp of a particularly strong alcoholic beverage after asking the question.

"Because our Defense teacher brought to me evidence that an Elder had somehow manipulated the timestream already," said Dumbledore. "We did go over this before, and that it would be of benefit to caution the children here not to accept any offers from either the Fae of either Court or of Elder Things that might be interested."

"I don't see why they would," said Malfoy, who could admit that while he would never normally be sitting amicably with the likes of his current company - they did indeed have some fine brews in their larder.

Snape set his own glass firmly down on the table. "It's the Dark Mark among other things. There are reasons soul-magic is actively discouraged and filed under the category of Things Best Undisturbed. There are precedents. The Fall of Ur, for example. Even though the Unspeakables at the Ministry meddle in some of those forces - there are borders even they do not cross."

-note-

(in case anyone was curious, i was thinking that having Draco turning into a rabbit furry would be sufficient with genderbending him and having his family put Draco under lock and key (and out of the series) was a second possibility.) Just as well i'm not going there, i suppose. i'm pretty sure someone's done something similar somewhere in the stacks of HP fanfics.


	6. Chapter 6: Competent teacher 4

One Floo Under, a series of plot bunnies and scenes that i can't actually use involving the Potterverse franchise. Honestly, i blame having more than an hour's drive time (both ways) where these ideas can pop into my head.

*break line*

and i can't use the abbreviation for above because that would be 1FU. Which is pretty close to a chemotherapy drug.

*break line*

competent defence teacher scenes. Was actually thinking someone like Elias Ainsworth (if as someone native to the Potterverse and less than canonic version since the magic mechanics is considerably different) or Gwydion Jones (an RPG character i played a few times, Abjuration specialist Wiz9), or like the local version of Harry Dresden. Like a typical mentor in such stories, he'd probably die before the Deathly Hollows novels but being competent I'd expect the cost in taking him down would make even Voldemort wince.

*break line*

"You need wards," said the defence teacher.

Hermione's parents looked askance at the teacher, who was wearing relatively normal clothing from what they'd come to expect from the wizarding community. Oh sure, he looked and dressed a LOT like John Steed of the old Avengers series, but compared to the pictures of Dumbledore or Lucius Malfoy in that newspaper that Hermione had brought home? He'd hardly raise an eyebrow in some places.

"As a matter of fact, most people assume I'm some sort of local musician or DJ," said the Professor. "Sorry. Not mind-reading. I'm just reading your reactions which are pretty close to what I've gotten from others in the non-magical community."

"Oh. You get that a lot?" asked Emma Granger.

"Oh yes," said the Professor. "Going around to those close to Harry and checking the wards around their homes. Nothing too overt you understand - otherwise your electronics would go wonky. As I understand it, it involves the Heisenberg Uncertainty Principle as it applies to electron orbits."

Dead silence.

"I get that reaction a lot too," said the Professor.

"Isn't that... quantum physics?" asked Dan Granger.

"Yes," agreed the Professor.

"I thought that muggles and wizards kept their worlds entirely separate," commented Emma Granger.

"Most do. Statute of Secrecy and all that," agreed the Professor. "However, the world contains a lot more than just wizards and non-magical folk. Some of those keep their existence secret from the wizards in fact."

"How?" asked Daniel Granger.

"Same way the wizards do, same way the non-magical people who are aware of the magic society keep the magicals from knowing about them," said the Professor. "Honestly, once you know of one world-wide secret society capable of mind-altering or killing groups of people to keep themselves secret - doesn't that mean that are likely others?"

"I hadn't really thought about it," admitted Daniel Granger. "Now I wish I hadn't thought of that at all."

"Right, well, wards and protective magic is my specialty," said the defence Professor. "Lots of people tie wards into magical people being there to power the wards up. Which is fine if you're living there. As Hermione's off at Hogwarts, we'll just tie these into the ley lines. That way they'll be self-renewing. Take longer to build up power, but once they've filled they'll be self-maintaining. I'll just set it up for the whole 'hostile intent' trigger. Would you like a ghost or magical guardian? Once the wards are up, that'll be enough to keep one around - it's just they'd spend a lot of time sleeping or resting."

* break *

"Oi," said Hagrid when it looked like everyone was here. "I gots a special one fer ya today. Friend o' that defence Professor."

"Oh?" asked Fred Weasley.

"Do tell," said George Weasley.

"Now, first person ta identify the species gets five points fer their House," said Hagrid.

A third Weasley twin emerged from the hut.

"Oh Merlin," said a Ravenclaw. "Now there's three of them. The world is DOOMED."

"Hey," said Fred.

"I resemble that remark," said George.

"Is it a boggart?" asked the Ravenclaw who'd spoken earlier.

"Got to admit, he's a handsome fellow though," said Fred agreeably.

"Ah, well," said the imposter, shifting so that the hair lengthened and other parts seemed to briefly flow like wax before settling into a new configuration. "Actually, I'm a girl."

"A natural shapeshifter?" Cho Chang glanced at her fellow Ravenclaw and then at the female Weasley lookalike. "Wait. Couldn't be."

"Couldn't be what?" asked the shapeshifter.

"Skinwalker?" asked the first Ravenclaw.

"Neither a boggart nor a skinwalker, and I'd have a bloody lot more wards in place if it were that last one," said Hagrid, shaking his head and shuddering. "Them's quite dangerous, too dangerous to have around here, and thankfully rare."

Everyone unfamiliar with skinwalkers made note of the fact that Hagrid considered them too dangerous for HIM. In which case they didn't want to be anywhere near such a thing.

Those familiar with skinwalkers merely thought that Hagrid DID have limits as to what he considered "mostly harmless" and were vaguely reassured.

"Huli Jing," said Cho Chang. "Sometimes called a 'jiuweihu'?"

"Five points to Ravenclaw," said Hagrid.

"Well, I prefer kitsune," said the shapeshifter, shifting slightly with her hair becoming a different shade of red. A couple of whisker-lines appeared on her cheeks and she became something other than a female version of the Weasley Twins.

"Natural tricksters, pranksters, and..." Cho Chang stopped and considered the looks being passed between one of the twins and the kitsune.

"DOOMED," repeated the first Ravenclaw.

* break *

"Now," said the Defence Professor. "Your exam for this class will be a bit different. No written test, as this is 'defence' and not 'Paperwork' being taught. In that room I've got a 'situation' for you to deal with. When Percy here calls your name - you'll go in. Remember your lessons and resolve the situation, exiting at the door at the far end of the room. I will be present but treat the situation as if I were not. As you are all Second Year students, you will not face quite the harsh conditions of the Seventh Year students. Don't take it too lightly though as this IS the bulk of your grade in defence for the year."

"Okay, I'm scared," said one of the Gryffindor girls.

"Good. That means you are paying attention," said the defence Professor. "Mister Weasley."

There was some nervous muttering as the Professor entered the room. Shadows seemed to be deepening all around and a cold breeze wafted out from the door in the brief period it was open.

"Hmph," said Draco Malfoy. "Theatrics. They can't do anything real, so it is just an attempt to intimidate us."

Harry Potter opened his mouth only to find a good number of the Slytherins (led by Greengrass) and a few Gryffindor beat him to the punch.

"Wait till my father hears about this," said a fair percentage of the class.

Malfoy scowled at everyone except his two minions.

"Honestly we could charm a box to say that every so often, and you could go off on vacation and nobody would ever know you were gone," complained Daphne Greengrass.

Harry glanced over at Ron. "You know. She's got a point."

Ron nodded. "For a snake, she's got her moments."

"Gee, thanks, Weasley," said Daphne, putting enough sarcasm in her voice to qualify as a blunt trauma weapon, "SO glad you approve."

"You're welcome," said the apparently oblivious Ron.

Harry snorted, then apologized without saying to whom or for what.

"Okay," said Percy Weasley. "Ron. You're up."

"ME?! But I'm at the end of the alphabet here," protested Ron.

"That's not the order you're going in," said Percy. "Come on, little brother, I'm sure it won't be that bad."

After Ron had entered, there was a brief pause followed by a blood-curdling scream, someone trying the door frantically, and then broken pleading as that someone was dragged away from the door.

Percy shook his head. "Sounds like little brother is not doing well."

"What the blazes?" asked the Gryffindor girl.

"Next up, Harry Potter," said Percy as a chime indicated that the room had been prepared again.

* break *

As soon as he'd entered the room, Harry had figured out what exactly he was looking at. An expanded room that had been set up to look like a warehouse. A sniff indicated this was probably supposed to be some dockside location. He hadn't been to the ocean except that once when Hagrid had shown up at their lighthouse, but that scent was familiar enough from that.

Crates all over the place, netting, stacks of materials, forming the sort of natural maze that a real-life warehouse manager probably confronted on a regular basis and hated with a passion.  
There was...

Harry blinked. He'd only gotten bits and pieces over the years of watching the telly when someone else was actively watching it. Therefore he'd only seen it in passing, but he knew that THAT was not a forklift despite having some superficial resemblence to one.

As he had half-expected, one of the crates began shuddering then broke apart in flying pieces of wood. Long furry limbs stretched out of the remains of the crate and a very nonhuman body began lifting up out of it.

"Immobulus!" cast Harry.

The freakishly huge spider shuddered and seemed to pause. Then it showed signs of getting pissed off.

"Tarantallegra!" tried Harry.

The spider found itself dancing in place. It was clearly not pleased though and clashed mandibles together and dribbled venom.

"That'll only hold it for a moment! Free me! I can help if you let me escape!"

That brought Harry's attention to the cage. A young girl in a cage? Well, he knew what to do about that.

"Alohamora!"

"Thank you," said the young girl as her cage came open. "I-"

"Get away quickly," said Harry as the spider began dancing closer. "I'm not sure this'll stop it. "

A jet of webbing was sent his way, Harry ducked.

The girl shook her head. "You don't trust me. Good practice, but don't automatically reject help if it's offered."

"You sound like the Professor," said Harry.

"No, but I'm part of the test," admitted the girl. "Now excuse me while I get back into the role. New kind of thing for me."

Cold. The kind of cold that was often attained in parts of Siberia. The kind of cold that left people wondering where the Ice Age had suddenly come from.

It was only present in the air for a split second and Harry could only feel it as it swept by and was mainly protected by it.

At which point he sprinted for the far door and made it through.

The Defence Professor was abruptly there and nodded at him. "Pass. Full points, Mister Potter. Well done."

Realizing he was in another classroom, Harry looked about. "Where's Ron?"

"Infirmary. Did you know he suffered from arachnophobia?" asked the Professor.

"Fear of spiders?" asked Harry. "Is he all right?"

"Required a calming draught, and I'd much rather it was administered by a member of the medical staff who are much more prepared to deal with any unexpected side effects that might crop up," said the Defence Professor.

There was a scream. Another scream. Someone yelling that his father was going to be informed about this. More screaming.

"Sounds like Malfoy," observed Harry.

"It is," said the Professor, he tapped his glasses. "When someone's in the room, the view changes so I can observe how they did."

"Not doing very well, is he?" asked Harry, trying not to smile but not being very good at it.

"He's ignoring the yukionna, who IS there to help anyone getting in over their head, and just blasted open three more crates using various spells that I did NOT teach any of my students. Oh, good grief."

Harry took a seat and waited. In a few moments, Draco appeared in the room. He was wrapped in webbing, missing a fair amount of his robes, splattered with a greenish goo, and looking as if he'd just clawed his way from the depths of hell.

"Draco Malfoy fail," said the Defence Professor. "Seriously. How did you manage to get ZERO points?"

"It wasn't fair," said Draco. "I shall inform my father of this travesty!"

* break *

"Remind me to slap your mother," said Lucius Malfoy.

"Wha-what?" asked an astounded Draco Malfoy.

"There is no way, no way, that you have sprung from my loins," said Lucius Malfoy, shaking his head and stalking off in a billow of robes.

As the Slytherin table went dead silent, other than a brief unladylike snort from Daphne Greengrass (who then glared around her as if to indicate she could never have done something so crude), Hermione sighed and shook her head.

"Hermione?" asked Harry.

"Fred and George," whispered Hermione. "Are not sitting at their usual spot."

"Ah," said Harry with a nod. Well, that certainly explained that didn't it?

* break *

The Defence Professor smiled.

The Death Eaters surrounding him weren't quite sure what to make of this.

Worse, for all that he looked rather like Patrick McNee had in his late 20s, and was fairly unassuming and blend-into-the-background in both muggle and wizarding society in appearance - it was not a nice smile.

It was a wolf smile. It was bared teeth and confidence. It was something to indicate that there was a basic misunderstanding about who was the predator and who was the prey.

"Don't try anything or your students-" began the lead Death Eater, gesturing towards the hostages.

There was a puff of smoke and the hostages were suddenly not there.

"Already rescued," said the defence Professor. "Good job, Mister Potter. Fifty points to Gryffindor. Oh, before I forget."

The doors all abruptly slammed shut with only a ripple in the air beyond one to indicate where exactly the hostages had gone.

"Hah! You trapped yourself in here with us!" declared the lead Death Eater. "You're outnumbered and surrounded. We'll make you beg for something as sweet as death before we finish you off."

"You done?" asked the defence Professor.

"Uhm. No. We will simply retake the hostages and torture your precious students after you're dead. You have accomplished nothing."

The umbrella slammed down on the floor, abruptly becoming a staff of black wood scribed with glowing golden runes.

An arm snapped out, and an armored bracer shimmered into visibility.

"I see," said the defence Professor. "Well then. How about if I-" There was a blur as he apparated behind the lead Death Eater "-begin."

Potion bottles arced out and the defence Professor slapped the Death Eater spokesman in the back before apparating again before reappearing behind another one.

"We have anti-apparation wards up, you can't leave," yelled the spokesman.

"That just means I can't leave this room," noted the defence Professor. "Let me teach you a few things."

* break *

"The Dark Lord is livid," said Severus Snape, allowing himself a smirk.

"Oh, why? He managed to take down his target," noted Minerva McGonagall.

"He lost sixteen Death Eaters taking down ONE wizard," said Snape. "He expected this to be a set of Crucios followed by an Avada Kedavra. He expected to make an example of someone who couldn't even get his name right. Instead, the 'weak' wizard used potion-bombs and pre-prepared spells and illusions to throw things into confusion. Sixteen - and three of them were members of standing amongst his followers."

"So he'll have to replace them," said Dumbledore. "Thank you, Severus. We'll have to keep that in mind. What a pity that he couldn't have simply captured or restrained them."

"I disagree," said Filius Flitwick, though everyone pretty much ignored his comment whatever their thoughts on the matter were.

"He lasted three years, a record that hasn't been broken in decades," noted McGonagall.

There was silence for a moment before Minerva McGonagall decided to ask a question. "How in the world do you suppose he made a fiendfyre grenade?"

"It wasn't," said Professor Snape, sniffing his brandy. "I ran across his notes. It was a muggle something called a 'fuel-air-bomb' with a reducing and a containment charm set to go off when he died and stored in a bracer. When he died both the containment and reducing charm failed and the device went off inside a house that had been rigged with anti-apparation wards. Potter's injuries were from tarrying near the limits of the detonation."

"His hearing should return by tomorrow," noted Professor McGonagall.

"On the other hand," said Snape, smirking slightly as he paused. "Apparently young witches are still looking for chances to prove their bravery by getting a moment alone with Potter. The Dark Lord still has no idea why or how he's getting Crucio levels of pain as nobody in the know wants to experience how much pain the Dark Lord will throw about on his followers once he learns. The Death Eaters are all planning to plead that they didn't believe it because of how silly it all sounds."

* -break- *

"MARRIAGE LAW?!" asked Minerva McGonagall. "Forcing young witches and wizards to marry. WHY?!"

Snape sighed and rolled his eyes. "You know how much pain it is causing the Dark Lord when random witches seek out Potter's lips? It was described as Crucio-like for a reason. He came up with this idea himself. If Potter is ostracized or paired with a single witch, it will cut down on the frequency of these little attacks."

Filius Flitwick looked over the parchment and began laughing.

"What's so funny, Filius? This is quite serious," exclaimed Minerva without a trace of humor.

"Paragraphs E and H," explained Filius. "Cutting through the Legalese, of which the wizarding version is even worse than the muggle variety, it states that those who are engaged prior to the law taking effect are exempt from arranged marriage until the engagement is broken off. Also - it allows for multiple engagements to those of Ancient and/or Noble Houses in order to ensure at least one engagement goes through on their majority. I think Lucius Malfoy did that one - he apparently still thinks Draco is the Black Heir."

"Well, if something..." Minerva McGonagall's voice trailed off. "A harem law."

"Not exactly, since the law doesn't strip any rights from the women involved other than what you would expect from a marriage," said Filius. "You know - behavior in keeping with the societal acceptability levels for the main family involved? It looks like they tried to pass something a bit more cranio-rectal-invertive but it was stricken down in the general vote."

"Suffer, Potter, suffer," said Severus Snape, looking out a window.

"What?" asked Minerva, going near the window and noticing that Harry Potter was running across the lawn with at least four female students in hot pursuit. "What do you suppose Potter did now?"

"Isn't it obvious?" asked Filius. "Mister Potter is safe. He is unlikely in the extreme to try and take any liberties or abuse the situation. So I suspect young Harry there is going to have a number of engagement proposals from various young witches. Possibly involving torture, ropes, kidnapping, attempts at potioning, blackmail, and so on."

Snape's smile was particularly evil as he turned from the window. "I shall prepare an extra-large supply of purgatives and laxatives for Poppy. A number of potions require such measures to be rid of their effects."

"You are a cruel cruel man, Severus," said Minerva.

Severus Snape inclined his head. "Thank you. Nice to know my efforts are appreciated."


	7. Chapter 7: Brightest Witch

One Floo Under, a plot bunny I can't use.

-Number Seven-

Brightest Witch

Hermione let out a very undignified snort at Draco Malfoy's latest attempt to put Harry down. If either Harry or Draco had been inclined at all that way, she'd have assumed that Draco was trying to start up something romantically. The thought of Draco Malfoy attempting less confrontational methods of wooing Harry had been too much for her to keep a straight face.

"Damn mudblood," grumbled Draco, briefly turning his attention from the current Harry-baiting. "Getting up early and singing to the sunrise like some mudbird."

"What?" asked Hermione Granger, not surprised that her morning ritual had been gossiped about. No, she really wasn't sure she'd heard correctly.

"Mudblood," repeated Draco Malfoy. "Or 'mudbird'?"

"What's that even mean?" asked Hermione, sounding amused.

Harry smirked. "He thinks you have two normal non-magical parents."

"What?" asked Hermione. Then she started to laugh.

"She's lost it," summed up Draco.

"Hey, Professor McGonagall," said Hermione loudly, also waving an arm to get the teacher's attention. "Malfoy just called my parents NORMAL muggles."

The entire hall went eerily silent as Minerva McGonagall briefly snorted and laughed before she got control of herself again.

"Hermione Granger's parents? Did he use the term 'mudblood' then? Oh, I see," said Dumbledore before chuckling as if at some joke.

"What?" asked Draco, knowing this meant SOMETHING. "But... you said you were the first witch in your family."

"Well, I am," admitted Hermione, still smirking.

Draco tried to work that out. Honestly. Several of the staff were either smirking or shaking their heads. Two of his OWN House were looking at him with some odd expression he couldn't quite place. Professor Snape was facepalming again. Odd that, he seemed to be doing that a lot lately. If she was NOT a muggleborn or mudblood but neither of her parents were wizards and her family was devoid of magical lineage - what could that mean?

"You're descended from a squib?" asked Draco. It seemed the most likely thing. Squib cast out of their family, such things happened, but then a witch was born to the resulting line?

"No, not quite," said Hermione.

Daphne Greengrass came over to stand near Hermione. "My lady?"

THAT caused Draco's eyebrows to shoot towards his slicked-back hairline. Daphne Greengrass and a few others in Slytherin had been unusually polite and even downright solicitous of Granger for the most part - even though he had no idea why and the interactions had been few and far between.

"I've told you before, Miss Greengrass. I'm just a normal student here, my lineage besides the point, so treat me as such," said Hermione, apparently turning her full attention to the rice-and-lamb dish in front of her. Also the book titled "So You Want To Animagus?"

Daphne Greengrass nodded. "Of course, Miss Granger. Draco? Her mother is NOT someone to cross. She might be trying to live a perfectly normal life for a generation or two, as a sort of vacation, but you do not want to involve yourself with that side of the family."

"What?" asked Draco. Then he thought about veela and other creatures. It happened in old stories after all. A muggle and a veela got together, had magical kids, founded a line. Yeah, that could be it. Except that it didn't explain the reactions of the staff. "Uhm. Might I ask your mother's name?"

Hermione partly turned and smiled at him. "Brigid Granger. At least nowadays."

"I see," said Draco, clearly not seeing.

"Since Imbolc is approaching, would you allow me to honor her at that time?" asked Daphne Greengrass.

"What you do on your own is your own matter," said Hermione, turning back to the matter of her meal and the book beside her.

"I would suggest you read the Lebor Gabala Erenn," said Daphne softly to Draco as she began to return to her seat.

-much later-

"Well of course, I don't feel bad doing poorer than her," said Ron Weasley. "You really don't know WHAT she is?"

He was being pitied. By a Weasley. This was not amusing, but he swallowed his gall at the situation. "No. I looked up that book Greengrass suggested but it seems to always be checked out of the library."

"Malfoy, we don't like each other. Like, at all," summed up Ron Weasley. "I'm out of my league on that one though, and so are you. Her mum's name is Brigid."

"I know that," snapped Draco.

"Brigid of the Tuatha De Danann," said Ron. "Hermione's mother is the Celtic goddess of the dawn. Also smithing and a few other things. Harry's a hero or some such. According to Hermione he has a destiny and some other stuff, but apparently that's enough for the daughter of a goddess to think her mum's family is going to approve of him. He's no good at poetry though, so maybe not. Apparently poetry's a big thing."

Draco scowled at the redhead. He didn't have to make up something stupid like that.

-much much later-

Severus Snape was many things, by his own reckoning as well as that of others. He was sarcastic, had a temper, was dismissive for the most part of muggles like his father, stubborn, and prone to ignoring things he didn't want to face. He was not, however, stupid.

He knew from a very shaken McGonagall's report back when she'd gone off to let a muggleborn family's know about their daughter going to Hogwarts that the muggle family was not entirely muggle after all.

He knew from lore that humans, whether wizard or not, tended to form bonds with and mate with various other species. He was a bit of a prude in some respects but during his teenage years he'd read about such things like many other young men. Kitsune, yukionna, and ryu (which were often called dragons but were more celestial messengers) in the Orient. Fae of various types in Europe. Hags and vampires and veela and many other things in England itself. In tales from ancient Babylon through Greece and Egypt and on into modern times there were tales of gods and goddesses who had relationships with mortals that resulted in offspring. Some of these tales had raised an eyebrow as there were subtle differences from the versions that muggles circulated. Such as Zeus being less of a womanizing bastard and more someone who wanted humanity lifted out of their current squalor by fathering heroes. And Hera was less about jealousy and more about having a completely different, and less meddlesome, view on the relationship between deity and humanity.

As for the Norse, it was quickly seen as almost a competition. Despite being married to each other at the time, there were stories about Sif and Thor getting into a competition about how bloody many semi-divine offspring resulted. (Thor won, but ended up consigned to a couch in his own manor for a century.)

Still, while it wasn't exactly unknown (though frequently hidden) for a wizarding family to have a nonhuman or two in their family tree. It was frowned upon, and there was frequent discrimination against such, but it was hardly unknown. Filius Flitwick was an example, having both human and goblin in his immediate ancestry.

Therefore, after the initial shock of seeing his fellow Professor taking out a bottle of Scotch during a meeting with the Headmaster, he listened and understood precisely what was being stated.

The goddess of the dawn and healing and smithcraft (among other things) had settled down with a muggle dentist who apparently had a gift for poetry. And, among other things, had apparently learned a bit of runecraft. So. Neither father nor mother fit the traditional definition of muggle, though neither was wizard or witch in the traditional sense. Also apparently, the mortal father had been using a bit of runecrafting in the field of dentistry for decades with neither the muggle world or wizarding world being any the wiser. Only minor things, but it had given the dentist a reputation amongst the muggles as "a bit odd but if nobody else can get your teeth fixed - he'd be the go-to" or something to that effect.

Therefore the mortal and goddess had a fair amount of money, a decent house, and could take their young daughter on vacation. Minerva had seen pictures. Rio, Cancun, the Shining Fields, Dachau, and so on.

Dachau had been one particular telling point. Considering the Dark Lord's usual political stance and the inclusion of that site as a "field trip" - Severus Snape had absolutely no doubt what the little girl's reaction would be to learning of such.

Severus Snape had therefore come to a conclusion early on. While the various gods and goddesses never involved themselves directly in a purely mortal conflict - their spawn were usually in the thick of it. Hermione, daughter of Brigit, might just reject Dumbledore's side if given cause. She was about as likely to join Voldemort's side though, as he was to be crowned Queen of England.

At that thought, Severus Snape gave a little snort of amusement.

"Miss Granger, you get no points for this essay."

You'd think from her gobsmacked expression that he'd just bounced a bludger off her face. Gratifying.

His voice was loud enough that the entire room could hear, and BECAUSE this girl was WHAT she was, he explained. Besides, it might help with some of the various dunderheads he was forced to teach.

"The assignment was a one-foot essay on the preparation of bubotuber pus. One-foot." Severus held up a parchment scroll and let it unfurl, bouncing once off the floor and unrolling a further five feet in addition. "You were warned previously. Potion preparation is exacting. Any changes to the process will affect the finished product. I also have to read dozens of these things. Which is why this is a fail - failure to follow directions is not acceptable in the least in my class. Ten points from Gryffindor as well."

Ah, now she looked indignant. Time to indicate she wasn't being singled out.

"If it is any consolation to you, Miss Granger, I am having the exact same conversation with at least four from Ravenclaw. I will also give you the same bit of advice. Have one of your associates go over your essay and remove the excess. A different eye will catch things you do not. On the other hand, we have Mister Weasley who attempted to write in extra-large lettering just to take up available space. Laziness is also not to be tolerated. Another ten points from Gryffindor."

Spread the misery. Some people attempted to spread their joy and share happiness. He didn't have much in the way of joy or happiness so he'd spread sarcasm and misery, of which he had ample supply.

\- flashback -

Minerva McGonagall strode confidently up to the front door of the residence with confidence. It was important to project confidence and self-control, especially around the muggle parents who would be prone to panic attacks at the very least.

She came to the iron-wrought gate of the residence, where one could look along the short path to the front door, and paused as a feeling of something-not-quite-right intruded upon her calm. After looking at the gateway, she experienced her first indication that this would NOT be like the last hundred or so meetings with muggle parents and prospective students that she'd had.

There was a runic array, of the Viking style from what she could see. Well done too - silvery metal lines against the black iron. Wardings against hostile intent most prominent, followed by one of their wheel-designs and wardings against...

The Professor cocked her head as she followed the line through the twists around the gate. Here was a warding against evil. Against the dead. And against solicitors, salesmen, and prosletizers. Interesting. What was this - "Speak Friend And Enter" bit here?

Minerva McGonagall considered that briefly, straightening, and with a start realized that there was now someone standing on the other side of that fence.

"If you were seeking me, you have found me, though you may soon wish you had not," said the woman with bushy hair that seemed to move in a breeze despite the complete lack of anything like a wind today.

"I am Professor McGonagall of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry," said the Professor, trying to take back control of the situation.

"Oh?" said the woman, squinting for a moment. Then she seemed to relax and a smile bloomed instead. "Ah. Good. You're right on time. Always nice when someone keeps proper time. Do come in, child."

Minerva blinked as the gate swung open and started following the woman automatically before those softly spoken words properly penetrated. "'Child'?"

"Hmmm, yes. Everything is relative, as I believe that Einstein fellow said. Or are relatives. Or something." The woman walked into the now-open doorway of her home. "I'm afraid Ted is at work right now. But I do believe a spot of tea and a few of those Jammie-Dodgers would aid this conversation a bit."

"Ah. Yes." Minerva followed the woman in.

A teaset had been put out, very old but well-maintained. There was a bottle of scotch next to one chair.

"Just in case. Some people could use a little dollop at some point. Though I imagine you're of sturdier material, yes?" said the woman whose hair seemed to still be moving in a breeze that didn't disturb anything around her.

"Mum? Oh."

"You must be Hermione Granger then," said McGonagall. She was a bit grateful that something was going according to plan.

"She's here to tell us about Hogwarts School for Witchcraft and Wizardry and how you'll be attending," said Brigid Granger.

"Oh? Does that mean I can finally get my wand?" asked Hermione. "And meet the Prophesied Hero? It'll be nice to finally get to start studying something besides runecrafting and sigils and the like."

"Runes is an advanced course," automatically responded McGonagall. "You're already studying it?"

"Minerva McGonagall, you don't seem to know the situation at all," said Brigid, shaking her head sadly as she poured tea. "I am Brigid."

"Yes. Brigid Granger," agreed Minerva McGonagall.

"True, but specifically I meant Brigid." The light shifted, becoming somehow fuzzier. Wind whipped around the kitchenette with the smell of pines and deep forests taking on an almost solid presence. Brigid seemed to loom somehow without growing or shifting her position. "Brigid of the Tuatha De Danaan. Brigid of the Dawn. Daughter of the Dagda. The Triple-Aspected of Smithing and Flame and Hearth."

"Oh," said Minerva McGonagall. "I thought you were married to Bres."

Brigid waved that aside. "Died. Apotheosis. Seperated. It happens. Consequence of lifetimes spanning millenia, some say. We'll probably get back together after another century or two. Thor, over on the Norse side, has been known to do that. So has his wife Sif. I won't even get into those Greek chappies."

"Quite," said Minerva McGonagall, finding the tea up to the standards one would expect. "Zeus has quite a reputation."

"Oh, not just Zeus," said Brigid with a smirk. "Hera just has a tendency to smite people who went on about HER proclivities. Worse temper than even her husband."

\- End Flashback -

Minerva poured a shot of whiskey into her tea, shaking her head at the memory. Of all the visits to "muggleborn" households she'd done - THAT one had quickly stuck out from the rest. Having an afternoon tea was rare enough, getting an earful of gossip of the various deities and their antics had been an entirely different experience.

Minerva turned her attention back to the grading of papers, setting young Hermione's essay aside with a note to stick to the assigned amounts. Bad enough she had all these essays - when she asked for a three foot essay and got twelve it was a sign that someone had to learn to stick to the instructions. ESPECIALLY if she was going to be as powerful a witch as her lineage indicated.

\- break -

Lord Voldemort stared at the Death Eater, finally grinning after a few moments.

The Death Eater, Rookwood, began relaxing.

"Crucio!"

Lord Voldemort kept it up for a few moments, then released his subordinate. He even gave a few more moments specifically to let that subordinate stop gasping. "Does anyone want to tell me WHY going after Granger's mother and attacking her is a BAD idea?"

"Because, by ancient treaties, the gods do not directly get involved with purely human activities, My Lord," came the smooth voice of Lucius Malfoy. "Hunting them down and attacking them, such as with Mister Rookwood's suggestion of trying to steal her power - would cross that line. At which point we have at the very least drawn the ire of the Tuatha De Danaan upon us. At worst - we have other pantheons as well getting involved."

"Look, Augustus," said Lord Voldemort to his recently-punished minion. "I can work with crazy. Psychopath, sociopath, crazy - these are just words. Stirring up that hornet's nest? No. THAT is insane. Now, the daughter? She's vulnerable, she's involved, she's mortal, she can be a target. If you kill her there's a chance she might ascend to become a goddess but then she can't get involved much like her mother. If not, she's still dead. Potter though - he's the one in the Prophesy and I have to kill him myself."

"I see, My Liege, I thank you for your wisdom," gasped Rookwood.

"Now, the father. The father we can kill, but probably won't," said Lord Voldemort. "After all, he's just a muggle and of no consequence. The dawn-goddess would eventually head back to her people. Problem is, there's no guarantee that the goddess wouldn't get hit with a stray spell if you go attacking him and then we're back to facing the Celtic pantheon. And if the other pantheons get involved, bad to worse."

"Especially those Norse," agreed Wormtail.

"We can and will prevail in the wizarding world," said Lord Voldemort. "Don't overcomplicate things."

If more than one of the Death Eaters rolled their eyes at that comment coming from the Dark Lord, they were behind their masks and concealed. Because the certainty of being repeatedly Crucio-ed was evident even to them.

\- break -

just an idle thought about the repeated use of "brightest witch of her generation" being used in various fics to describe Hermione.


	8. Chapter 8: Goemon 2

one floo under, chapter 8

more harry potter ideas not usable

*break*

more of the Intelligent Device concept

*break*

I was the AI of a rather powerful magical computer, one that was dependent on the power of the mage using me for both power and direction. Without commands, I was actually quite limited in both function and senses. If I sensed incoming danger, I could react in certain specified ways. I could always make suggestions though.

It was based on those suggestions that Harry had commanded me to begin working both his core and physical abilities through exercise programs which had been listed in the medical database for someone who was recovering from extended injuries or something similar.

I flipped through medical programs and analysis when I stopped and scrutinized something from my position in a sort of soulspace.

[Alert. Soul Leech detected.]

My interactions with Harry, my designated user, were also stuck with scripting.

"A what?" asked Harry. "That does NOT sound good."

[Soul Leech - a fragment of a soul anchored to another, which feeds off energy to maintain itself.] Again, from the medical database under rare magical maladies. It didn't appear to be active at the moment but that could change at any given moment.

"Okay," said Harry, settling into his space in the cupboard a bit better. "What do I need to do to get rid of it?"

[Accessing.]

There were five methods. One of which involved dying. Two required special preparations that were unlikely to be acquired anytime soon. The other two were do-able with current resources.

[Method #1 requires access to a ley line nexus. Nearest one is forty-seven kilometers away.]

[Method #2 is higher risk to Master designated Harry Potter. Direct confrontation and domination of soul-fragment.]

"What would that do, kill me?" asked Harry, thinking this all sounded Very Serious Indeed.

[Method #2 carries risk of possession by soul-entity. Method #1 carries risk of magical exhaustion.]

"If it's forty-seven kilometers away, how would I get there?" asked Harry. He might not be very old and not terribly well-read, but he did know enough that the concept of being possessed was generally not a good option.

[Flight mode. Moonless night decreases chance of being observed and will allow for less drain on reserves prior to ritual.]

"Huh, let's go with that one then," decided Harry.

*break*

"WHAT?! NO! I AM LORD VOLDEMORT! YOU WILL SUBMIT TO ME!"

[Statement: Bullcrap.]

"I WILL KILL YOU IN GREAT AGONY!"

Harry was hiding behind me in the soulscape, an emaciated little boy of no great confidence.

I myself had manifested a form in keeping with my identity here. I was a samurai, dressed as such, from my zori-style sandals to my top-knot. In my hands I was wielding a katana that was black and red. A Muramasa blade forged of will and magical power.

The creature we faced was some noseless pale human wearing robes and wielding a wand.

It brandished the wand. "Avada-"

I sliced the arm holding that wand off, just below the elbow. Prepared programs turned the lopped off section to a black mist which was then drained of color and flowed into my sword.

"NO! I WON'T LET YO-ARRGHHH!"

The other arm was now mist and the blackness of both had become a marble.

It was not a battle. This was butchery at this point. I was remorseless, ignoring the occasional sound of squeamishness from Harry as I dealt with the invader. Bit by bit, slice by slice, until only the screaming head was left. And then there was none.

"What's that?" asked Harry, looking at what appeared to be a black tennis ball.

[Memories. Raw data. It can be accessed and reviewed for usefulness.]

"Oh," said Harry.

[It was a very bad person, Master. Even a surface scan reveals multiple murders, torture, and worse.]

"Well, then I'm glad I don't have that thing in me anymore," stated Harry.

[After assimilation, that power will be added to your own, as well as special abilities on your request.]

"You mean super-powers?"

[Parseltongue - the ability to speak with snakes and snake-like beings is one such.]

"Doesn't sound very useful," said Harry. How often did he even meet any snakes?

I caught that thought and privately agreed to the utility but I was a bit more pragmatic in that any advantage you could get should be taken.

Hmmm. There was a possibility of expanding it to other species as it was a magical ability and therefore something one could tweak about. Maybe it could be duplicated and then the copy switched to another species?

"So, can we head back yet?" asked Harry.

I immediately switched things back to normal space-time, settling back into my gemstone form as the real world settled into solidity. [Affirmative.]

* break *

The ability title 'Parseltongue' had been analyzed over six months on Track Four of my processing power. Now was the time to work out the tweaks, and give it another month or so to work out the various variables.

Felines? No, you could communicate all you like with them but trying to get them to do something you wanted was an entirely different proposition. They could go just about anywhere, but didn't always have much of an attention span.

Canines? Possibly. Canines, unlike felines, tended to operate under either family or pack orientation. They could be bribed too.

Avians? By far the bulk of them were worthy of the whole "bird-brained" concept but some of them could be fairly clever. Put that next to canines as a possibility.

Reptiles was already at least partly under the Parseltongue thing. Broadening it in England so he could communicate with the occasional gecko didn't seem terribly useful.

Toads and frogs. I had a vague memory of something in that general vicinity, but again it wasn't a particularly useful skill unless one lived near a bog or similar environment. Dead useful if one DID live in such a place.

Terranish? Ground-dwellers? Badgers and moles and the like? Possible. Especially if one had a farm or garden.

Rodents? Now that one got added to the list alongside avians and canines. They were often found in or around human habitation, made excellent spies, and were easy to feed/bribe. Have to work with a few for purposes of bringing their intelligence up to actually follow directions, but it was a distinct possibility.

Fish weren't that bright. Ceteceans, or sea-based mammals, were bright enough but of limited utility even if you were someplace with a seashore. If you weren't on a ship a good percentage of your time, much less useful than rodents.

Crabs were ornery. No, they'd never do.

Well, I'd have to kick the decision up to Harry anyway.

Fortunately, the exercises on his magic and physique had given him a fair amount of magical and physical strength - allowing for longer periods of operation and more processing power.

* break *

"So, I can talk with the animals?" exclaimed Harry.

[Specific type to be chosen.]

"Chatter with a cheetah?" asked Harry.

[Please do not go there.]

"So, my choices are," said Harry, considering the list being projected in the air. "Birds?"

[Primarily raptors.]

"'Raptors'?"

[Birds of Prey.]

"Sounds like a band name," replied Harry. "So. Birds, dogs, mice, cats... anything else?"

[Theoretically it could be nearly any broad grouping of animals. Current data is limited.]

"Right. Well, in that case, I've decided. Let's try..."

* break *

"Platform Nine and Three-Quarters?" asked Harry.

[Multiple magical signatures. Projecting most likely connection-point.]

"Multiple?" asked Harry.

[Analysis of magical signatures begun.]

"Well, you certainly sound pleased," noted Harry as he approached the pillar that was currently outlined in orange in his glasses. "Come to think of it, you used to sound tired quite a lot."

[Master Harry's magical core and reservoir has increased to 600% of starting levels. Higher activation percentage.]

"Right, and you're pleased because of this?" asked Harry.

[Affirmative. Also, analysis of magical structures allows for greater periods of productivity.]

"Well, I can see how that might be the case," admitted Harry. "So - how do I access this?"

[Move quickly. Picture yourself going through. It appears to be a Dimension Door spell linking two spatial coordinates.]

"Oh," said Harry.

"Oh, mind the muggles. Which platform are we heading for?" said a woman's voice nearby.

"Nine and three quarters, mum," said a little girl's voice.

[Not very discreet.]

"I suppose," said Harry as he shoved his stuff through the pillar and came out in a train station that looked like it belonged to a previous era.

[Nine & 3/4? Why not Nine & 1/2?]

"You're asking me?" asked Harry.

[Possibly an example of an internal logic process or naming convention peculiar to the secret society.]

"So?" asked Harry as he wondered how he was supposed to get the trolley up the steps.

[Knowing what the logic behind that is - might allow for being able to anticipate such things in the future.]

"So you want me to ask someone," said Harry.

[Please. Otherwise the illogic will give me a headache.]

"You can't get headaches as you don't have a head," pointed out Harry as he decided he was supposed to leave the trolley and just haul the stuff up by hand. It wasn't as if he'd ever ridden a train before.

[As I am essentially a sentient magical computer, you could argue that I am all head. Use the telekinesis spell.]

"Right. Wingardium Leviosa." Harry pointed at the luggage, causing them to float.

[Wand.]

"Eh?" asked Harry.

[You are supposed to use a wand when doing magic.]

"Oh right. Forgot."

[Sigh.]

* break *

[Analysis complete. Spell is transformative and involves concept of 'totem animal' with allowances for retention of intellectual abilities.]

"Hmmm?" asked Harry.

"Have either of you seen a toad?" asked a young girl as she popped her head into their compartment.

[Wide Area Search?]

"Wide Area Search," agreed Harry, remembering to pull his wand out and making a gesture with it.

Seven spheres of light appeared in the air and raced off.

"What? What was that spell?" asked the little girl, visibly excited.

"Wide Area Search," explained Harry. "It lets me find things. Got it. Three compartments down, on the left, under the bench."

"Ah. Uhm, right," said the little girl, running off.

"I think I know a spell too," said Ron, pulling a rat out of his pocket. "Sunshine, Daisy, Butter, Mellow. Turn this ugly fat rat yellow."

"Uhm. You DO know that's a shapeshifter, right?" asked Harry.

"What do you mean?" asked Ron. "This is my pet rat, Scabbers, and... AGH! He bit me!"

"I take it you did NOT know that was a shapeshifter?" asked Harry.

"He's no shapechanger," said Ron. "Just an old rat my brother had and passed on to me. You musta panicked him."

"By talking about him being a shapeshifter?" asked Harry.

"Yeah," said Ron.

"So your rat understands human language?" pointed out Harry.

"Errr," said Ron as that little detail began to ring a few alarm bells within his head.

"Thanks, it was right where you said... What did I miss?" asked the little girl from earlier, now clutching a toad.

* break *

"Wide Area Search," called out Harry. Spheres of light formed, faded into translucency, and shot off in different directions.

"That's what you used to find Neville's toad on the train," pointed out Ron.

"Yes. Yes it is," agreed Harry. "Hang on. Oh bugger. It's heading straight for that bathroom."

"The troll?" exclaimed Ron.

[Ninjutsu: Shunshin]

Ron saw Harry blur and disappear, but as he knew where Harry had gone - he sped off himself in pursuit.

* break *

"AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!" screamed Hermione and Ron.

"Hi. My name is Harry. What's yours?"

The cerebrus paused. (You spoke?)

"Yes, as a matter of fact. We're not trying to get past you, big guy. We just came in here by accident."

The cerebrus settled down, staring at the children before him. (My name is Fluffy, speaker.)

"Harry? Are you yapping at the terrifying three-headed dog?!" asked Ron, trying to hide behind Harry.

"Yes. Who's a good guard dog and not letting anyone past him?"

(I is.) The cerebrus nodded, looking quite proud of the job he was doing. (Fluffy is good boy!)

"You certainly are," responded Harry.

"I... what?" asked Hermione. "Harry. Stop doing impossible things!"

"No promises," said Harry.

* break *

"You're cheating," stated Hermione, after they'd gotten away from the crowds.

"How's that?" asked Harry.

"Goemon is always scanning everything around you," said Hermione. "Breaking the magic down to sets of equations and runes and power. So you can use Goemon to cast spells without ever having to study them! That's cheating!"

"But Goemon doesn't have to do the wand movements or pronounce things like I do," pointed out Harry. "He can't. So I have to learn the spells and effects myself."

"But I've been looking in the library and there is nothing about talking jewels," said Hermione. "I think you need to take it to the Professors and make sure it isn't cursed!"

"[You've already told someone, haven't you?]"

"Hermione! I told you this was a secret. You promised!"

"It could be cursed. How do you know it's not letting you cheat so you get dependent on it?" demanded Hermione.

"[Harry has not been cheating. Warning. Three high-level inbound. Identified as Headmaster Dumbledore, Professor McGonagall, and Filius Flitwick.]"

"Oh crap," said Harry.

* break *

"What exactly are you?" asked Albus Dumbledore.

"It went silent the moment we took it from young Mister Potter," said Flitwick. "So it was apparently drawing power from him."

"Who knows how long it may have been influencing him," said McGonagall. "So - do we have any idea how it works or what it actually is?"

"No. And therefore it is best locked away where it can never influence anyone ever again," said Dumbledore.

* break *

"So. Someone sends you a broom. Hermione has it taken away to be checked for curses. Because she apparently don't like quidditch or Gryffindor having a better chance at winning anything," said Ron, tossing a bit of popcorn up and catching it. "She sees you scoring nearly as high as her on tests and figures you're cheating and then gets the idea that your gemstone thing might be cursed."

"Yeah," said Harry, glaring across the common room at someone who was hiding behind a book.

"See, that's why I don't study," said Ron, trying to sound wise. "Too many people get hung up about the grades and all competitive and such. Better to go and choose your battles. Check, by the way."

Harry sighed. "Never really got into chess anyway."

"Noticed," commented Ron. "It's easy to tell when Goemon was talking to you."

"Who's 'Goemon'?" asked Fred, giving up all pretense that he wasn't listening.

"Goemon WAS a sort of ghost who hung around and gave me advice," said Harry.

"Ah. That would explain how you scared off Peeves," said George.

"That would also explain how you know what's going on around you so much," said Fred.

"Except during sports and such," said Harry. "Goemon refused to cheat. Said he had a code of honor. Gone now though."

"What about that thing with your strength?" asked George.

"Oh, that? No, I've still got that," said Harry. "He called it a form of warlockry - or war-wizardry depending on who was doing the talking. You know how wizards tend to be a bit tougher than non-wizards?"

"Wizards tend to be a bit sturdier than muggles, yeah," admitted George. "Cause we got magic."

"Same thing, but you're reinforcing yourself with magic so you're even 'sturdier' than usual," said Harry. "Trickier to do without someone to handle the upper-end math, but still usable."

"Using magic to make yourself sturdier?" asked George.

"Yeah, but you have to be fairly careful doing that. Too much and things could go boom," said Harry.

"That would be-" began George.

"-very bad," finished Fred.

* break *

While away from Harry and unable to draw on any of his magic, I was reduced to a state close to sleeping. Every so often, a poke or prod would stir me slightly but the automatic defenses kept things from requiring full activation.

When I became more aware, it was because some crisis had occurred.

"Are you sure that's wise, Albus?" asked Professor McGonagall.

"[Status: Active]

[Low level drain of ley line nexus was undetected. Current reserves at 98%]

[Area Scan Complete. Master Harry Potter not present.]

[Requesting SitRep.]"

"It talked," noted Professor McGonagall.

"[I did.]"

"Do you mean, at any point, instead of locking this trinket away - we could have ASKED it what it was?" asked Professor Flitwick.

"[Affirmative. Permission from Master Harry Potter required for answer.]"

"Ah, well, that's the problem," said Headmaster Dumbledore. "Harry, you see, is in great danger."

"[Located general area. Projecting.]"

"What?" asked Albus Dumbledore.

I had simply projected a map of Great Britain, putting a pulsing dot at the general location of Harry.

"[Unable to give precise location without closer proximity.]"

"Little Hangleton," said the Headmaster. "Well, then, I'll just put you a-"

"[Emergency Protocols activated.]"

In gemstone form I was very limited in what I could do, but I could go very quickly towards Harry as he was my operator. I was also somewhat aerodynamic and small, so the energy requirements of passing the sound barrier wasn't as high as it could have been.

* break *

"Bone of the father, unknowingly given, you will renew your son," said Wormtail, aka Peter Pettigrew.

Harry tugged at the ropes, but someone had apparently told them about his ability to enhance his strength with magic as the ropes neither stretched nor broke. Finally though he felt and heard a crack as the headstone he was tied to broke and gave him some flexibility.

"It will avail you not, Potter," snarled the scaly baby-thing. "Your little parlor tricks are nothing and my Death Eaters stand ready to destroy you before you could intervene. There is nothing you can do that will delay your execution."

There was a series of echoing cracks in the air and a gleaming orange gemstone suddenly appeared, hanging in the air between Harry as his taunter.

"Your alternative spell focus, I see," said Lord Voldemort. "I shall enjoy unravelling its secrets after your death. Lucius. Kill the boy."

"Avada Kedavra," cast one of the Death Eaters as the demon-baby was deposited into the cauldron.

"[Analysis Complete. Countermeasures Active.]"

There were a few stares as the green light went into the little gemstone, and was apparently absorbed.

"[Avada Kedavra - necromantic spell used for severing connection between soul and body. If no soul is present in target, then spell's energies are discharged in damage to environment. Ineffective against soul-linked items such as soul-containers.]"

"Glad to see you back, Goemon," said Harry. "Kind of in a situation here."

"[Affirmative.]"

"Goemon. Set Up."

The gemstone glowed briefly as metal pieces formed in midair and ratcheted together into a spear. Harry's clothes altered as well, becoming a set of black robes with breastplate and vambraces in dark blue.

"[Barrier Jacket. Ready. Protection.]"

"Too late, Potter," said Lord Voldemort as he began emerging from the cauldron.

"[Barrel Shot]"

The cauldron exploded, sending shards of iron into Voldemort's new body.

Spells began firing off as the Death Eaters reacted.

"[Flight]"

"Now, this is the part I like," said Harry as he shot into the air, weaving around the various bolts fired at him.

[Target Lock-on.]

"Ninjutsu!" said Harry as he piroutted around another Avada Kedavra. "Bunshin!"

Three more Harry Potters appeared, though one was immediately dispelled by a purple spray of light.

"Divine Shooter," said Harry. "Full Power."

Eight bolts of light shot out from the tip of the spear, darting around hastily conjured shields and smashing into robed figures.

"Got anything to affect a wide area?" asked Harry as they dodged around a series of curses.

[Affirmative. Beginning cast-time.]

Lord Voldemort was neither completely crazy nor stupid. While it was true he had a habit of ignoring things that did not fit into his plans or worldview - it was already obvious that the spear that Harry Potter was clutching was NOT simply a back-up wand as his minions had reported previously. Also, while he had little idea as to what that glow building up around the tip of that spear was - he was getting a definite feeling of things not going at all well. "Can none of you do something so simple as killing ONE boy?!"

[70%]

Yes, decided Lord Voldemort, there was definitely something ominous about how several curses and jinxes and even a few Avada Kedavra changed course and went into that brightening ball of energy at the tip of that spear.

"Can't keep this up much longer," pointed out Harry.

[89%]

"Like THIS! AVADA KEDAVRA!" cast Lord Voldemort, sending a beam of brilliant green at Harry Potter.

That the beam bent and then connected directly to that ball was noted but Voldemort felt sure he could wrest control back.

[135%]

[150%]

[200%. Now, Master.]

"Starlight Breaker!" cast Harry, hoping this did something spectacular.

* break *

"Well, we're in Little Hangleton. Now where do you suppose Harry is?" asked Minerva McGonagall.

At which point the night turned into day as dawn came early, then proceeded to go into nova stage.

"Some odd intuition tells me - that way," said Filius Flitwick, squinting into the light.

A sudden burst of wind and dust swept past them.

"Hurry," said Albus Dumbledore. "We must save Harry."

Hurrying after the Headmaster, Filius muttered something about whether it was actually Harry that needed saving.

When they got to the crater and the robed-and-masked bodies scattered everywhere, Filius Flitwick repeated the comment - adding a particular word in the Goblin language that emphasized the word following it.

Minerva McGonagall slipped into a brogue so thick ships could sail on it, but probably agreed with Professor Flitwick.

"Voldemort got away," said Harry. "However, it cost him an arm and a leg."

"So I see," said Albus, looking over the torn-off limbs.

* break *

"Okay, Goemon," said Harry. "You can answer their questions."

Hermione still looked extremely nervous. Ron looked like he wanted a little gemstone of his own, and everyone else looked particularly somber.

"So, what exactly ARE you?" asked Filius Flitwick.

"[Do you know what a computer is?]"

"I do!" exclaimed Hermione Granger. "It's a type of machine that calculates numbers very very quickly."

"Like an abacus?" asked Dumbledore.

"[Much more advanced. Artificial Intelligence first developed in Belkan Devices.]"

"I imagine we'll have to have Miss Granger explain a bit more about some of this," noted Minerva McGonagall.

"[Affirmative. Mid-Childan origin for frame construction.]"

"'Mid-Childan'?" asked Professor Flitwick.

"[Multiverse. Another universe. Advanced magical civilization that developed in the aftermath of a precursor civilization.]"

"That would be the 'Belkan' you mentioned earlier. So you were built elsewhere, by advanced wizards as an assistant and teacher?" guessed Professor Flitwick.

"[Essentially correct. Current Master is Harry Potter - chosen as serving local hero acceptable when original designated Master unavailable.]"

"Oh, that actually makes sense," said Professor Flitwick.

"And all this time I thought the 'power he knows not' would be love," muttered Albus Dumbledore.

"Personally, while I like 'love' myself - I'm rather a fan of overwhelming firepower in a fight," replied Professor Flitwick.

"So, are we good yet?" asked Harry.

"We'll have to investigate further," began Albus Dumbledore.

Harry glared over at the bushy-haired girl.

"[Hostility detected.]"

"It's been years!" complained Hermione.

"Yes, yes it has," grumbled Harry.

"It could have been like that diary in second year!" defended Hermione.

"[Reference not understood.]"

"Ah, perhaps it would be best if we had this conversation where certain ears are not present," said Dumbledore.

"Except if that had been the case, I'd have been possessed before I ever got to Hogwarts," replied Harry.

"Miss Granger is quite correct in her assessment that adults should be consulted in such matters," said Albus.

"First year - Voldemort hiding in Professor Quirrel's turban? Second year - diary and the bloody basilisk?" asked Harry.

"Language," chided Professor McGonagall.

"Third year - dementors!" continued Harry. "This year - one of the Professors was impersonated for the whole year and I ended up in a tournament with death as a penalty?"

"[References not understood.]"

"We'll just lock this away again until we understand it better," said Dumbledore. "After all, it gives Harry here an unfair advantage against the other students and none of us want that."

"Right," said Hermione, looking smug.

"[Expression of extreme frustration.]"

"I understand that," said McGonagall.

"Wouldn't it be better to leave out something that would give me a better chance of survival?" asked Harry. "As I am being hunted by a Dark Lord who freaking refuses to die and wants to kill me?"

"He's got a point," admitted Flitwick.

"I'm sure everything is under control and such measures will not be necessary," said Dumbledore, casting a restraining spell and then layering magic-suppression spells on the gemstone.

* break *

It had taken well over an hour to get away from everyone. "Goemon."

"[Affirmative.]"

"I can't believe the Headmaster didn't notice," said Harry.

"[Was able to manufacture physical copy/relay device during trip returning to Hogwarts. Ninjutsu Replacement Technique. Transparency Technique.]"

"NOBODY must know about this," said Harry, relaxing a bit.

"[Scanning area.]"

"Hermione just double-downed everytime the subject came up," said Harry. "She insists she couldn't have been wrong. Ron would blab, he's nearly as bad with secrets as Hagrid is."

"[Area scanned. Two secret passages utilizing magical concealment and with trigger activations.]"

"Have to analyze those at some point," said Harry. "It being my dorm room and all. I've got privacy wards up around my bed."

"[Enacting anti-eavesdropping protocols.]"

"I suppose I should catch you up on everything," said Harry.

"[Data would be appreciated.]"

"Where to begin?" asked Harry, mainly to himself. "Okay. Hermione had my broom taken away, then you, by reporting stuff to the staff. We've been kind of distant since then. Can't tell her anything because she's convinced Hermione knows best. Since then she's become even more of a teacher's pet. I got into quidditch since that at least allows me some flight time. Quirrel turned out to have Voldemort, that's the evil undead that killed my parents, possessing him and showing up on the back of his head. Why he wore a turban apparently. Had to fight him in a chamber below where we encountered Fluffy. Oh, Fluffy's doing fine apparently. Still growing."

"[Fluffy is a good boy.]"

"Yes he is," agreed Harry. "Still can talk to canines so I go out and chat with him and Fang every so often. Let's see. Fought off Voldemort, apparently I could dissolve the git because of some blood protection. Except that this year he managed to resurrect himself with my blood so that apparently won't help in the future. Second year and there was this cursed book. I can't do more than one sphere on a Wide Area Search without you to filter and process and apparently it counts as magic in the halls. Got detention first time I tried. So even if I'm trying to find out what petrified Filch's cat - not allowed and let the adults handle it."

"[Situation analysis: screwed up.]"

"Right buggered is more like it," said Harry. "Turned out it was a sixty-foot long basilisk being directed by a cursed diary that thought it was Voldemort. It was possessing a first-year, Ron's little sister in fact. Did battle. Was able to use Wide-Area Search and blindfolded myself. As long as I wasn't using sight I couldn't see its eyes and it couldn't kill me that way. So all I had to worry about was that it was a freaking sixty foot long snake with instant-kill venom. Tried to convince it not to kill me, didn't work. Had to kill it, used that instant-kill venom on the book. Killed it, cue wraith of smoke screaming and fading out. Nasty piece of work. Pity you weren't around - you might have been able to analyze that and figure out exactly what it was. Anyway, third year was the year my godfather broke out of prison and the shapechanging rat you found on the trip to Hogwarts in first year turned out to be the criminal that got my parents killed and not my godfather after all. Then there's this year with a Tournament Of Death between three schools for inadequate payoff but the honor of the schools or something. At the end of which Cedric and myself ended up in that graveyard you found me in."

"[Repeating analysis of situation as being screwed up. Question: does management still insist Hogwarts is safest place in Britain?]"

"Uhm, yeah, which really makes me wonder how screwed up the rest of magical Britain is," admitted Harry.


	9. Chapter 9: Conspiracies

one floo under, chapter 9

more harry potter ideas not usable

Only in Britain could it be thought a defect to be too clever by half. The probability is that too many people are too stupid by three-quarters.

*break*

2/13/1979 -

"This is... odd," said the Prime Minister.

"This is only the beginning of the rabbit's hole," said the Queen.

"I'm not sure what could be stranger than learning that there's an entire society of magic existing within our borders," said the PM.

A nondescript man stood outside the end of the corridor, eyeing them as they approached. No, realized the new Prime Minister, eyeing her.

"She's the new Prime Minister," said the Queen.

The nondescript man in the slightly shabby clothing nodded at that. "Margaret Thatcher. Queen Elizabeth. You are recognized."

A section of wall opened, revealing a somewhat grungy-looking elevator.

"What about-" began the newly appointed PM, glancing at the single security agent who'd accompanied them.

"Oh, Agent Green? She's in the know already," said the Queen.

"Quite," said Agent Green, a tone of amusement in her voice.

"This is quite an old elevator," said Thatcher as she entered.

"Indeed," said the Queen, standing next to her. "I believe it was last refurbished in 1947."

"Upgrading the surfaces is scheduled for 1980," said the nondescript fellow before the doors closed.

"Well, if it's... we're moving very fast," noted Margaret Thatcher.

"The elevator itself was built in 1942," said the Queen. "Shortly after I had been approached by a very odd individual."

"That was when you learned of this 'wizarding society'?" guessed Thatcher.

"Oh yes, I had just turned sixteen, but I had already been fascinated by mechanical things and I found this even more of interest," said Queen Elizabeth II as the doors to the elevator opened again.

The short rough-hewn stone corridor didn't impress the PM. The shipyard on the other side of what she recognized as an airlock DID. "How?"

Something started walking towards them. The PM wasn't quite sure if she should classify this as a someONE or a someTHING. While it was clearly wearing a tool-belt and wearing some sort of stained workclothes, it was also clearly not human.

"Georges, you've grown," said the Queen, sounding quite fond of the large insect heading their way.

"Mine Queen," said a box at the mantis/centaur/creature's waist area. "You grown also have."

"Well, it has been a few years," agreed the Queen. "This is Margaret Thatcher. She is the new Prime Minister."

"Minister of Primes," said Georges, inclining his head and lowering antennae. Actually, realized the PM, she had no idea of the creature's gender though the voice from the box was of a male with a slight Northern accent.

"Georges is one of the refugees from a crisis out in the spiral arm of our galaxy," said the Queen. "He is what some term an 'extraterrestrial'."

"The Queen is kind to remember Georges," said the insect. "Engineer Prime is in control center. Today is reactor test."

"Ah, yes, I don't want to disturb him at present," said the Queen. "Relay my regards, please."

"'Reactor'?" asked the PM. "Nuclear?"

"Neither fusion nor fission," said the Queen. "Something else though they tried to explain it to me but the explanation did not make a lot of sense. Not sure how much is the language barrier and how much the technological gap. They have to build the tools to build the tools to make the materials to build tools with. I remind you that all of this is quite secret. Only the barest minimum of technology leaves this place, and was a condition of our agreement. What we have here are refugees from various entanglements. Extraterrestrials of various kinds."

"But this technology, it could revolutionize the world," said the PM, watching as what HAD to be some sort of anti-gravity device lifted tons of machinery up into the air.

"We are not ready for such advances, and there are other considerations," said the Queen. "The people here, and for all their strangeness they ARE people, are refugees. If the universe at large knew some of them were here - it would be a great problem for not only Great Britain but the world itself. You see, there are royals out there among the stars. And where there are royals, there are those who would supplant them. During the Second Great War - one approached me. A prince of sorts, in exile, on the wrong side of a coup. He survived and has been here since that time, ready to assist should Britain be threatened to an extent beyond even the Luftwaffe's bombardment."

"What do you mean we are not ready for such advancements?" asked Thatcher.

"How many traffic accidents are there in London each day?" asked the Queen. "Bad enough with the vehicles we have, but do you realize what sort of damage a person would do with a similar vehicle going at nearly Mach five and even a simple fusion reactor? Catastrophic indeed."

"If peoples-mine realized I here, asteroids could be towed. Much damage," said Georges.

"You're the prince?" asked the PM.

"Prince-not. Merchant of kind-sort," answered Georges.

"The moment this level of technology gets out into the mainstream, we would have to be watching for attacks," said the Queen. "There are protests at any scale-up of the military and there would be a truly massive one needed should it come to that."

"The Queen has gift from Engineer Prime," said Georges. "Word of magic-war reach us through Agent."

"A gift? It's not another soaking tub, is it?" asked the Queen. "It is with great regret that We cannot use any life-extension devices as that might put forth questions that We are not ready for."

"No," said Georges, taking a breadbox-sized device off of his belt. "Anti-magic field generator. Field covers half-klick."

"Ah, to prevent magical assassins?" asked the Queen.

"Arrangement with Britain mutual benefit, must continue," said Georges.

"Actually, We did have a request of the Prime," said the Queen, using the royal "we" to remind everyone that this was all an official visit. "We have been informed repeatedly about the wizarding delight in using mind and memory modification magic."

"Work in progress," said Georges, his mandibles clacking together. "Archway. Tricky. Go through, dispel. Very tricky make work non-individual. Humans vary muchly."

"Oh good," said the Queen with a nod. "That will most definitely be something we want around."

"Pardon. I don't mean to interrupt," said the PM. "Is that a spaceship?"

"Yes," said Georges.

"Why does it look like a battleship?" asked the PM.

"Because it is," said the Queen.

The PM paused and tried again. "Why, if it is a spaceship, does it look like a normal if a bit old sea-going battleship?"

"Camouflage," said the Queen. "If it needs to be readied, it will look to be something wholly unremarkable to anyone peering at it from orbit."

"So we have spies from the wizarding world hanging about, and we have aliens popping by every so often to check up on us?" asked the PM.

"Precisely," agreed the Queen as Georges nodded as best he could with the different anatomy.

"Bloody hell."

"Precisely," repeated the Queen.

\- 2/28/1990 *

It was an entire community formed below London with rock that had been melted and fused to prevent seepage, and even then the thumping of pumps could still be heard from one end to the other.

"So," said Q, a member in good standing of MI6 who only looked a bit like John Cleese. "Just wanted to tell you that the genesplicing went well. One of our agents died and crawled off, then regenerated into a completely different looking person."

"So that's five of us that the process worked on," said M. "James, yourself, myself, and two other operatives."

"Four actually, Agent 19 had a significant portion of his body destroyed on his mission to Budapest." Q shook his head. "As our nonhuman allies indicated, the process is not as efficient as the original species' ability. Certain conditions and limitations apply."

"True. We were able to recover the body?"

Q nodded. "Yes, or at least the majority of it. Per protocol, everything recoverable was cremated."

"Good," said M. "What of our other 'allies'?"

"The psychics remain unaware of the wizards and aliens for the most part, the exceptions being a few with particular talents or exceptional cleverness," said Q. "I mainly deal with the alien technologies that we're able to replicate within our materials limitations and that won't compromise our secrets too much if they fall into unfriendly hands. Watch-lasers are about the limit there. The aliens are aware of the wizards and the psychics but are mostly self-contained. The psi-operatives with Path-3 or Clair-3 and above usually figure out about the alien presence."

"I received word from Scarecrow," said M. "Apparently the war in the wizarding world is getting worse. We may have to break secrecy if it escalates but Spider tells me that there is a child who is the key to stopping Tom Riddle."

"A child?" asked Q. "The more I learn about this magical world thing the more confusing it is. I don't suppose the child is going to find a ring and go dump it in a volcano?"

"I'm pretty sure that isn't it," said M.

"Pity," said Q. "Would have nicely wrapped it up without further involvement on our part." He thought for a moment, Scarecrow was a psi who was the primary go-to for liasons between the psi and the more mundane agency members. Spider was one of those psi not part of their department, but was ranked as Path-3 and Precog-4. Therefore someone who knew a great deal of what was going on and only communicated when she felt it was urgent.

"The policy since each group established itself has been to allow them to be self-policing as much as possible," said M. "Currently we are very close to intervening and going straight to Operation Pendragon."

Q shuddered at that. Once that particular genie was out of the bottle, and the groups were no longer as secret to each other as they currently were - it would only be a matter of time before the mundane world began to learn of such.

At worst, war.

At best, well, it never really turned out with that sort of result did it?

"So, Q, at least some of our alien refugees came from worlds which had their own wizardy idiots. Did any of them have a way of dealing with them?"

"I shall make inquiries," agreed Q.

* September 6, 1984 *

"This is the 'Savior of the Wizarding World'?" asked Margaret Thatcher as she went through the photographs that had accompanied the file. "The one who kept us from having to unleash Operation Pendragon?"

"That is so," said the current head of MI5, the domestic version of MI6, also known as the Security Service.

"Looks a bit malnourished," said the Prime Minister. "I take it that he's in a subsistance-level household, judging from the clothes?"

"No, actually Vernon Dursley makes a fair amount of money as a Senior Director at Grunnings," said the MI5 head, who currently went by the name Algernon due to a bit of alien technology and someone asking the dreaded question "What does this button do?"

"Grunnings?" asked Thatcher.

"Drills, drilling services, and borers mainly," said Algernon. "Mainly the sort of thing used in construction and excavation work, commercial applications with few products suitable for the general public. Vernon Dursley was hired in 1966 and has continued working with that firm despite some odious personal habits."

The Prime Minister flipped to the sheets dealing with Vernon Dursley, raising an eyebrow at some of it. "Well. This is not particularly acceptable now, is it?"

"Albus Dumbledore put him there, and legally it IS the only place to put him right now. Only surviving relatives and all. We have one of our fellows inside the magical side looking for evidence of any actions we can use to pull him out but right now it is dicey at best."

"I see," said Thatcher. "So, does Spider still say that this Moldytoast is still around?"

"That's 'Voldemort' ma'am," said Algernon.

"I thought there was some sort of taboo curse on the name so that it couldn't be uttered," said Thatcher.

"Possible but doubtful," said Algernon. "We just tend to call him 'Tom Riddle', or 'case DL-13'."

"Wait. He may have put a taboo curse on his pseudonym but not his real name?" asked Thatcher.

"As near as we can tell, common sense or anything approaching it is not particularly valued in the magical community," said Algernon.

"I believe it was Voltaire who said 'There is nothing common about common sense.'" Thatcher nodded once and went through the folder quickly. "Child Protective Services?"

"More likely to do more harm than good, particularly considering the wizard tendency to go firing off those forgetfulness spells," said Algernon. "Some of whom are rather more skilled than others."

"Oh yes, Agent Goldstein," said Thatcher, remembering a note that had come across her desk earlier that day. "How is she?"

"Expected to make a full recovery but she still currently thinks she's a daisy," said Algernon.

"Definitely needs to be put on hazard pay," said Thatcher. "Very well, see what can be done without direct intervention. If necessary to safeguard Mister Potter - do it."

"Understood," said Algernon.

* break *

"Another pair of backpackers gone," said Thatcher.

"We've determined that the survivors were all obliviated," said Algernon. "Badly and most likely deliberately. One of them has no idea WHY but false memories recalling that he killed them both and hacked up the bodies."

"We're sure he didn't?" asked the PM.

"As close to one hundred percent as can be, or it would never have been kicked up to our level," said Algernon. "We're dealing with a pureblood wizard or group who is engaged in the practice of 'mugglebaiting' as they call it."

"Do we have any idea which one?" asked the PM.

"Probably Lucius Malfoy," said Algernon. "We could arrange an accident."

"We'd need to be completely certain, nor is the assassination of a British citizen something to consider even then," said the PM. "Keep tabs on him as best we can though. I understand that such measures, taken against those of non-magical descent, is not actually considered illegal or immoral within wizard society?"

"It's certainly considered wrong, much like a bestiality fetish would be in our society," offered the Algernon. "Though apparently you're right in the moral structure of the wizarding society worldwide is a bit off. Love potions would be date-rape at the very least in non-magical society, but are considered normal and mostly acceptable on their end."

"I wonder how many of these 'muggle-born' they find so abhorrent are actually the result of their male wizards going out and finding someone they fancy for a fling, then Obliviate afterwards," mused Thatcher idly.

"We're figuring roughly one-in-three if you accept those who are descendents of such a thing," said Algernon. "Though some remember to cast abortificant or prevention spells, some would inevitably get sloppy. We've got our eye on one such we think was one of Lucius' own."

"Oh?" asked the PM. "Chance we can get the child to work for our end? My understanding is that the 'muggle-born' face an uphill battle obtaining employment in their society."

"Understated," said Algernon. "We'll keep an eye on this... Hermione Granger."

* break*

Vernon Dursley was many things. He was likened fairly often to a toad of a man, in manner and in form. He was quite unpleasant to his co-workers and those under his authority. Even so, he mainly dealt with stacks of paperwork and reports and the meet-and-greet with potential clients to close the deal. In fact, his ability to do so despite certain social inadequacies was the reason he'd gone from salesman to assistant director and eventually to THE director.

He put it down to personal charm, talent, and hard work.

"Sir, you've got an appointment in thirty," said his secretary.

"I've got the afternoon open," protested Vernon.

"Sir, I put the note on your desk this morning, wrote 'Urgent' in red lettering up at the top, and put three exclamation points on it," said the secretary.

"Oh, it can't be THAT urgent," stated Vernon as he looked about and found the note. Odd, his secretary wasn't easily flustered but judging from the hasty scribble - she'd been very flustered indeed. Let's see. Something about getting his lawyer to drop by for the meeting? "That idiot? He charges way too much for a face-to-face. Entirely unnecessary."

"Sir, it's nice to see you're so confident, but are you SURE?"

"Of course I am!" declared Vernon. Never let the underlings see any sign of a lack of confidence. You always had to be in control. Let's see, the meeting was with whom? Odd, his secretary had absolutely no sense of humor. This had to be a joke, no way around it otherwise. "It's not April 1st, is it?"

"Guards are already in arrival, sir," said his secretary.

"Guards, pish and tosh," said Vernon, reaching under his desk and pulling out a magazine. Ah, golf. Man's game it was. Too much walking around though. He needed to concentrate on something else for now.

"Sir, the PM is here," said the secretary about a half hour later.

"Tell the old witch she's ugly and stupid and horrendously overpaid," called out Vernon. "She ought to be beaten and driven out of town. Ha!"

Silence from beyond the open door to his office lasted nearly a full minute.

"The rep from Child Protective is here as well," said the secretary, sounding oddly shaky.

"I really think this joke has gone on long enough," muttered Vernon Dursley. "Fine, send 'em both off! I don't have time for this! Important matters to consider, more important than some pissy old broads."

"Oh hell," said his secretary, which was odd because he'd never heard her so much as say 'damn' before.

"Right," said Vernon. "Probably more freaks. Too damn many of them in my opinion, and my opinion is the only one that counts."

Two uniform-types entered the office, taking steps to the side so they flanked the door.

Vernon blinked at the sight of the next person entering. "Damn. You look just like old horse-face."

"Sergeant," said Margaret Thatcher to one of the door-flankers. "Is the representitive from Inland Revenue here yet?"

"I believe they are currently going over the files, ma'am," said the man to the right of the door.

"Oh, I believe they should be most thorough in their vigilance," said the woman.

Vernon half-rose from his desk, turning red in the face as he unleashed a torrent of invective. This bloody joke had gone entirely too far and was unprofessional and that secretary was so fired he would make sure it was retroactive and that she'd be lucky to get a job working in sewage management.

Throughout the entire thing, the fake Prime Minister just wore the same infuriating half-smirk.

* break *

The barrister looked directly into Vernon Dursley's eyes and summed everything up in a single word. "Doomed."

"What? How was I to know that any of this was REAL?! Why the bloody hell does the bloody Prime Minister visit a drill company?!"

"THAT is the first intelligent question I've heard from you," said the barrister. "And I've got an answer."

"Well?" demanded Vernon.

"You're not going to like it," said the barrister.

"I already don't like it," said Vernon.

"Another point. You can be taught after all," said the barrister. "I have a few contacts and I was curious why so many heads of departments were interested in YOU. And as near as I can tell, it all comes down to one thing. Your treatment of your nephew."

"What? That little freak!" Vernon rose up, reddening in the face, gritting his teeth to the point where they might crack.

"You say that about him where THEY can hear, I have little doubt you'll end up in an unmarked grave by the end of the year. Sit DOWN, Mister Dursley."

Vernon sat, turning white. "What?"

"I had to use up favors, but I had to know," said the barrister. "It all came down to why. I'm likely to never have to interact with anyone of the layer of society involved in this. I hope I never have to again. I was able to ascertain a few things though. One, the boy's parents were highly placed in some secretive group and died defending British interests against some terrorist organization." The barrister was thinking MI5, possibly MI6, and therefore something he absolutely did NOT want further information on the sordid details. Having such information was quite a bit more dangerous than he was entirely comfortable with.

"That's not right, they were just freaks," said Vernon.

"You may not believe it - but THEY believe it," pointed out the barrister. "I have no idea how high this goes up but it goes up pretty damn high. Mister Dursley, these are all legal proceedings and that's really all I can advise you on. As long as it stays legal proceedings with what they've got - you're doomed. Tax errors were made, but if they can make a pattern of it - that's evasion. Child Protective checked with the neighbors and found a lot of stories that don't match up. If they get a warrant and search your house for evidence of child abuse - will they find anything?"

"No, not at all," said Vernon.

"Good, because if I understand right they're probably on the way there now," said the barrister.

"Urk," said Vernon Dursley, turning almost completely white.

The barrister saw and connected the dots. He merely repeated the summation he'd had earlier. "Doomed."

* break *

Albus Dumbledore had heard from Arabella Figg that the muggle agencies charged with the welfare of children had gotten involved. He'd immediately flooed down with the full intention of obliviating the hell out of everyone involved, telling them to believe some cock-and-bull story he'd make up on the spot, and then return the status quo no matter what was going on.

He'd appeared in Arabella's floo, rushed out the door despite the squib's protests (she was only a squib after all) and charged down the street.

Photographers had been there, but photographs could be easily altered by someone sufficiently skilled with the same spell. Reporters were there, but they were easily influenced and deflected. Police and government agents and neighbors - the same.

The first wave of a Mass Obliviate hit the crowd, and there was such a scream you'd think he'd used fiendfyre on the woman. Clutching her head, falling, flopping around on the ground. One of those fits some rare muggles had when exposed to mind-affecting magic. Epilepsy, he thought they called it, and made up some muggle excuse for what caused it.

Even so, he resumed his effort after the pause to the rare response and another one clutched his head and was driven to a knee. Ah, a migraine sufferer. That too was often caused by exposure to mind-altering magic but some wizards had the same affliction. Didn't matter, he could adjust.

At which point, despite being disillusioned, a large dog hit him rather like a furry thunderbolt.

Oh great, the constables had a K-9 unit.

As it grabbed him by the wand-arm and slung him across the grass, he appended his earlier observation. Freaking BIG K-9 unit.

Which had led to HIM being repeatedly photographed, asked a bunch of impertinent questions, and eventually released.

And a K-9 had apparently fetched a stick for the muggle constables. A K-9 unit of the muggle constables had the bloody Elder Wand!

Oh, he'd reclaim it soon as he could find the dog and its handler. This still was hardly the way he'd intended things to go.

* break *

"Well done, Officer Biggs. Officer Wedge. Well done indeed. Which of you is which?"

"That would be Officer Biggs, Algernon. The unusually large dog is named Wedge. Biggs is rated as Beast-3 but specializes in working with dogs. Wedge is an exceptional dog. Caucasian-German Shephard mix I believe."

Algernon thought that Wedge could be mistaken for a pony with the size, and that Fenris might have been a better name.

"Yessir," said Biggs. "Sort of. Wedge here is from a magically-resistant strain of dogs used to safeguard temples in Tibet and similar areas. Unusually large, smart, magically resistant and very protective especially of children."

The large dog chuffed at the comment and gave a sloppy doggy grin.

"Well, keep it up," said Algernon. "I hadn't paid much attention to the breeding program until I noticed something was up with the Queen's corgi dogs reacting to things I couldn't see."

"They don't attack wizards on sight or anything, just get wary," said Officer Biggs. "Certain members of the staff have noticed that the dogs are reacting to something though as they also react to magical creatures that are invisible to mundanes."

"So I've heard. Looking forward to hearing more in fact." Algernon didn't mention how hard he was trying to get one for the main offices. This was about acknowledging the work of Biggs and Wedge, not about addressing vulnerabilities. Not just yet anyway.

* break *

Albus Dumbledore was not amused. That was the third person in a row to be hit with an Obliviate and who fell down screaming and thrashing.

Even as clueless as muggles were - the muggles were reacting in a most negative fashion to his attempt to get in the building he'd determined the most likely location of the Elder Wand. He needed that and then he could start the task of hunting down Harry wherever those "child protection" people had whisked him away to.

Which made it all the more shocking when he faced a muggle device that featured a long tube and which seemed to track his every movement in the corridor.

"Warning," came a voice from a box on one wall. "Intruder using stealth and attacking government agents. Stand down and identify."

Dumbledore blinked. His disillusionment was unbroken. So how?

"Grrrr."

Albus Dumbledore straightened. Slowly he looked over one shoulder. There was a very familiar and very large dog behind him.

Well, apparation was a well-practiced skill of his. He'd come back at a more convenient time.

Albus Dumbledore blinked as the world reformed around him. Mainly because this was NOT where he'd intended to be at all. This was not Hogwarts. This was not even Great Britain. This was the observation deck of the Eiffel Tower.

* break *

"Well, the anti-apparation ward didn't quite work as we expected. Instead of quashing his teleport, it dumped a bunch of energy into it. Looks like he ended up in Paris."

"Back to the drawing board then."

* break *

"Allo, Mister Potter. I'm Officer Biggs and this is my partner, Wedge. Say hello, Wedge."

"Aroo ra wa!" said Wedge in something that sounded like Husky-speak.

Harry was a bit intimidated at first. The dog was clearly larger and heavier than he was. On the other hand, said dog was grinning a sloppy canine grin at him and the tail was gently waving back and forth behind it.

The thought of what would happen should a certain prize-winning Harry-chasing dog face off against THIS was immensely cheering for some reason.

* break *

"Okay, so aliens have wizards," said Algernon. "In fact, most aliens have tech based on the whole 'magic' angle and get around the whole 'having to have the right blood' thing because their tech harnesses the underlying energies responsible for magic. Right?"

"That part is easy to understand," said Sakumo, the name given to one of the more human-looking aliens that was a liason. "Most races don't HAVE magical creatures or wizards. They just get to the tech level where they discover those forces and make use of them. Most of what you consider anti-grav is actually using something like the wizard's levitation spell. Same forces, different ways of accessing them or talking about them."

"So *some* aliens have wizards," corrected Algernon. "Some do not but can access the 'aether' or whatever. The energy found in the smaller folds in the universe or whatever the proper cosmological terms are. The local variety, by which I mean Earth wizardy types, access those energies by means of two genes. One is dominant and allows magical use, while the other is a damaged gene that suppresses magic if it turns on. If both sets are 'on' then you have what they term a squib. Someone who has magic in that they can see magical beasts and all but do not have the ability to use magic at all."

"That's right," said Sakumo. "And squibs are not well-treated in their society. Quite often they're just turned loose in the nonmagical world, thrown out of the family, and unable to cope with things. A few consider themselves lucky to be holding onto any menial job at all that keeps them in their magical society. So far the geneworkers have figured out how to make a nonmagical person a squib but making a nonmagical a wizard is beyond them."

"It's safe though?" asked Algernon.

"Completely at this point," said Sakumo. "That's why I'm briefing you. Only the people who have allergic reactions to the treatment medications are at risk and that can be tested for ahead of time."

"Let's do a trial group, just to make sure the process works," said Algernon, thinking things through. "How long does it take to stability?"

"Roughly two months with your species for everything to work through," said Sakumo. "Some species, such as my own, it's only a couple of your weeks. Actual injections take place over two weeks time for your species, timed injections at various sites. Some of which will be fairly painful. I'd recommend light duty for those undergoing the process."

"No side effects like what happened to me?" asked Algernon, wanting to be completely clear on that.

"What DID happen to you?" asked Sakumo.

"I used to be female and in my mid-30s," said Algernon. He made a gesture at his apparently teenage body.

"Ah. No, nothing like that," said Sakumo. "Possible nausea and diarrhea especially in the first two weeks."

* break *

Albus Dumbledore wore many hats. It kept him busy and being busy was a good thing for the most part.

It therefore took him six months to get back to the building that he thought contained the Elder Wand.

Now thoroughly disillusioned to the point where he didn't even have a scent, he went straight up to the doors to the building.

"Afternoon, sir, can I see your ident?"

Albus blinked and looked over at the box next to the door, his perfectly normal wand in hand. He blinked again then checked to make sure his spells were still active. No. They were not. Somehow between the street and the doorway, they'd come crashing down. "Just checking addresses. I seem to have lost my way."

"Understandable, sir. This is a restricted government office. You might try the sandwich place two doors down, they've got maps and a bus schedule."

"Ah, I see. Thank you kindly." Albus nodded as if that was all he was after and stepped away from the door and out of direct sight of it as soon as he could.

Perhaps a quick apparation to the other side of the door?

Albus Dumbledore made a quick gesture with his wand, placing himself under a muggle-notice-me-not charm. Then he went back to the door.

"Sir? You had a further question?" said the box by the door.

"Uhm, yes," said Albus Dumbledore, thinking quickly. "Do you have the time, by any chance?"

"Isn't there a spell for that? I see you have your wand out?"

"Uhm, right," said Albus Dumbledore.

"I'm a squib, sir. You're not violating the Statute."

"Ah," said Albus Dumbledore. "I'm Albus Dumbledore. You've heard of me. I require access to the building."

"Nature of business, Mister Dumbledore?"

"Recovery of lost property," said Dumbledore, glad that he was on familiar ground at least.

"Oh. You mean the Elder Wand, the Deathstick, the first of the Deadly Hallows," said the box. "Bad news about that. It's found a new owner."

"What?" asked Albus Dumbledore as the familiar ground was yanked out from under him. How did some squib even know what it was?

"It belongs to Officer Wedge, whom you've met. Which everyone agrees as quite odd because while Officer Wedge defeated you, all he ever does with it is chew on it."

Albus Dumbledore found himself so far off what he expected at this point that he couldn't form a coherent sentence. He understood what was being said but it made absolutely no sense to him. There were articles in the Quibbler that made more sense than this.

"Anyway, we may have found someone who can defeat Officer Wedge and claim the wand. We're currently negotiating with the family to allow her a chance at it."

"Some sort of wizard's duel then?" asked Dumbledore, praying it was not a Death Eater.

"Not at liberty to say, sir," said the box. "In any case, with all apologies to the Defeater Of Grindenwald - word has come back from my superiors that no exception is to be made and you are not authorized access to this facility."

"I simply must be allowed to recover my property, it is for the Greater Good," argued Dumbledore.

"Did... did you just try a charm spell on an intercom?!"

"Err, no?" tried Albus Dumbledore.

"Oi. That's it. Leader of the Light or not. Security. Attempted unauthorized access on the South entry. Unleash the hounds."

Perhaps another quick retreat was in order.

* break *

"Daniel Granger, I have here that you are a maxillofacial surgeon. Emma Granger, you are listed as a dental surgeon - specializing in Pediatrics."

The two Grangers looked at each other before returning their attention to the speaker as the three of them walked past another set of guards and a door that looked as if it was meant to stop an atomic blast.

"I know you've been told this a dozen times already, but this is all highest level of security. As the saying goes - you can't even tell yourself what you are going to see here, unless it is in a secure room within this very facility and then you'll be monitored." The guard, wearing a very respectable looking uniform, glanced back at them. "Signify that you understand this, please."

"Yes, well, we understand the agreement and that it has to do with our daughter, but we're still rather unclear as to what this is all about," said Emma Granger.

Another door opening, and this time the guard stepped to the side and gestured them in. "The Head of MI5 will personally speak to you on that. Have a good day, Doctors."

A teenage boy and a distinguished looking elderly man looked up from where they were standing near some odd gadget that involved rotating crystals.

"Ah, Doctor Granger. Doctor Granger. Excellent. We can begin your briefing now. Understand that if you decide not to sign up, nothing of this place leaves here. No telling anyone anything. We will give further briefings if you sign on."

"Yes, yes, we understand," answered Emma Granger. "Who is the patient?"

"Oh no, it's not your professional services we require on this," said the teenager. He clicked a button and one wall retracted into the floor.

"Hermione?" asked Daniel Granger.

The older man spoke. "I am like your daughter in one respect. I am a wizard born to parents without magic. That makes me a 'muggleborn' to most. Those who are against such call me a 'mudblood' and there are laws to discriminate against people like me that have been on the books for centuries."

What followed was the old man doing a few demonstrations of magic, and then leaving in order to go into the room next door and begin instructing Hermione.

"This is one of those one-way glass rooms like in a police interrogation room?" asked Daniel Granger.

"Yes, this way she isn't intimidated by trying to do this in front of her parents," said the teenager.

"Are you a wizard too then?" asked Emma Granger.

"No, but magic and some other things can affect one whether one is a wielder of magic or not," said the teen. "I'm actually quite a bit older than I look. Just know there's a lot going on that I can't tell you about due to levels of secrecy. Even if you agree to our proposal, there's some wizards who can pull information straight out of your head. The less you know, the more lives are not at risk."

"You want Hermione to be one of your operatives," guessed Dan.

"Very good, Mister Granger," said the teen. "Whether she does or not - just having magic makes her a target. If her magic were sealed away, she would remain a target with records in the magical world giving out her name. There's a terrorist group on the magical side of things that WILL target both her and you for that. The safest we can make it would see you disappear from England and have assumed identities in Australia or Canada. But that would only be if you did sign on and things started going pear-shaped."

"You want her to be a spy?" Emma asked, her hostility to the idea coming across in her speech.

"If you're thinking Mata Hari or James Bond or such, no. Not even close," said the teen. "We have access to someone who is key in breaking that terrorist organization and possibly disrupting the whole pureblood movement. Your daughter's scores in school indicate she is quite bright and has a near perfect memory. The young man in question is the same age as your daughter. We want her to be friends with him and occasionally let us know what is going on since the British school for wizards is one place we have no actual intelligence on. Even if she doesn't hit it off with young Mister Potter, he's of an Ancient and Noble House and therefore someone handy for her to know in that society."

"Friends with a boy?" asked Dan, sounding a bit disgruntled at the concept.

"Yes," said the teen. "It HAS been known to happen. If you wanted something a bit more formal, that can be arranged but is a fair bit trickier at this juncture."

"'Formal'?" asked Dan.

"As Potter is of an Ancient and Noble House, it is subject to a number of traditions and customs that are a bit outdated in our society," said the teen, holding up a hand. "Some of which would then give your daughter legal and cultural protections she does not currently have."

"AH!" said Emma, exclaiming as Hermione lit up the end of a wooden dowel in the room.

"The 'Lumos' spell," said the teenager. "She managed it on her second try. VERY good at her age."

"What kind of arrangements are you talking about?" asked Dan, not getting off track.

The teenager began counting off on his fingers. "Engagement - which can be broken off at any time as long as the contract is written up correctly. Vassalship - basically saying she's training to be his employee and is guaranteed work later as a vassal of House Potter. Bodyguard - not suggested because she might be a bit taller than him she doesn't seem the 'front line fighter' sort. Sponsorship - in which she and you sign a contract stating that she is sponsored by House Potter and will meet certain academic standards."

"I see," said Dan, not liking the idea of HIS little girl getting engaged no matter how old-fashioned the society. The other two seemed less a problem, with the sponsorship one seeming the most palatable. "What kind of benefits with sponsorship?"

"As I said, academic standards would have to be upheld," said the teen. "In the meantime she'd get a stipend and have various school supplies paid for. It also carries the benefit of her having to have a means of communication with a lawyer we have available to keep the records and yourselves in order to monitor her progress. Sponsorships are somewhat rare in the wizarding world, not as common as they were in the 1800s, but given out to particularly promising artists and musicians and students. Not uncommon for the sponsor to become the employer down the road, or for the sponsor to basically have bragging-rights about the sponsored individual."

* break *

Hermione Granger and her parents had been coached. Two steps behind and to the right.

"Good afternoon, Mister Potter, I am Assistant Account Manager Goldplate," said the slightly pudgy goblin. "I understand you have some business with us?"

"This is my barrister, Mister Ted Tonks," said the child. "He will be handling the details."

The two immediately started the usual dance of legalese, accounting, and similar terms. At one point the sponsorship contract exchanged hands and was quickly read by the goblin.

"Ah. A sponsorship? Not seen one for awhile," said Goldplate. "Not an engagement then? Pity."

"Not happening. Not in my contract," stated Hermione.

"Well, at least leave it open for later," suggested Goldplate.

"Why is that a pity?" asked Dan Granger.

"The Potter line is an old and established line, with ties to a number of other wizarding lines," said the goblin. "It would be nice to see plans to continue it."

"Not happening," said Hermione.

"You're young," pointed out Goldplate. "Consider the possibility when you've gotten through puberty at least. I take it this is to give the young lady some legal standing and financial help?"

"Yes," said Tonks.

"An engagement or concubinage would give her much better protection and access to more funding down the road," said the goblin. "Though I understand humans can be awfully picky about that sort of thing."

"Indeed," said Ted Tonks.

Hermione wondered what a "concubinage" was - it HAD to be better than an engagement.

"Looks in order," said Goldplate eventually. "You'll need to get an owl for her. That way she can send updates on her test results and such to her family and whoever is monitoring for her performance."

"That will be my office, actually," said Tonks.

"Mister Potter, do you have your key for your trust vault?" asked Goldplate.

"No sir, is there a way to get a new key made?" asked Harry.

"Blood test, small fee," said Goldplate. "I'd suggest a couple of our new wallets that'll allow you to draw a limited amount of galleons from your account."

* break *

"Portable LIBRARY?!" exclaimed Hermione. Almost squealed actually.

"Featherweight and expansion charms, so it just looks to be the size of a suitcase," said the clerk.

"And this is covered by House Potter per the whole sponsorship thing?" asked Dan, thinking the price tag looked awfully darn large.

"Yes, of course it is," said the legal aide who'd relieved Ted Tonks after the contract had been filed.

* break *

Hermione's eyes were wide and darting everywhere in the bookstore.

"Covered?" asked Dan Granger.

"Within reason," answered the legal aide.

"Glad we got that portable library first," said Emma Granger.

Hermione began making an odd noise and was vibrating in place.

Dan Granger sighed. "Okay then."

There was a bushy-haired blur suddenly racing through the stacks of books.

"Officially though, these tomes will belong to House Potter much as the portable library does," said the legal aide. "It's just that it is expected that Miss Granger will use them. No resales or anything of the kind without express permission of Mister Potter."

"She certainly seems to be enjoying herself," noted Harry as the young witch darted around like a hummingbird on a sugar high.

"Keep in mind that even if we can get Ollivander to sell the wands to nine-year-olds that she won't be able to use magic at home without being penalized due to the laws on Underage Magic," said the legal aide.

"Where CAN she practice?" asked Dan Granger.

"On the Hogwarts Express, at Hogwarts as long as it isn't in the halls, or at Lord Potter's retreat," said the aide. "I don't know where that is - but usually pureblood residences have sufficient wards to mask magic use inside."

"Ah," said Dan Granger.

* break *

"So how does being 'sponsored' actually help her?" asked Emma Granger, sitting in the tea-room of mock-Tudor-style home.

"Other than the library, being able to practice magic here, providing a bolt-hole for her and yourselves to retreat to in case of crisis?" asked Matilda Wildsong, a "squib" who apparently worked for The Agency and was using the place as a sort of overseer.

"Exactly," said Emma, sipping at the tea to give the Agent a chance to reply.

"As she is sponsored by a House, she can get out of some things - like duels - by claiming that it would not benefit the House of Potter. Likewise, any attempt to trick her or force her into signing a contract can only be done with the approval of her legal authority until after her age of majority - that being the lawyer who is on retainer to House Potter," said Matilda. "Further - any magical attack is considered an attack on House Potter and Harry can then demand recompense relating to the amount of injury caused or that the attack would have caused."

"I see," said Emma. "And this house is sufficiently warded then?"

"It has some pretty strong wards, which we are contracting to have enhanced and renewed," said Matilda. "In addition, there are four hardpoints set to be installed."

"Hardpoints?" asked Emma.

"Hardened gunnery locations where invaders will have to deal with attacks," said Matilda. "The type and location and operating specifications are classified, of course."

"All that is necessary?" asked Emma.

"We're dealing with terrorists who in the past have used teleportation-spells to get into areas, instant-kill and nerve-attacking spells to kill non-magical and magical alike, and who believe that their blood status gives them carte blanche to do so. Essentially magic-nazi types."

"Oh," said Emma. There were times where the Australia option was sounding rather good.

"Unless you use a specific portkey, you're not getting in that way," said Matilda. "Floo travel is blocked and if you try to apparate here you'll end up in the gatehouse. That has a few hostile-intent wards so if someone is forcing you here, drop immediately to the floor or it will get VERY messy right quick."

"I see," said Emma, thinking that those in the spy business had a perfect right to be paranoid.

"Have to see if we can get a house-elf here," said Matilda. "I'm on light duty due to injuries taken during Harry's retrieval. Apparently I'm one of those who doesn't do too well when hit with memory-modification spells."

"No?" asked Emma.

"No," said Matilda, shuddering slightly. "Took me over a week to relearn how to walk properly. Major epileptic fit. It's because some spells like Crucio and Obliviate affect the central nervous system and some people are just 'off' enough in configuration. Rather like how some medications will affect different people differently."

"I know how that goes, some of those new allergy meds don't work on me at all," said Emma. "So those other two possibilities would have given more protection to Hermione?"

"Oh yes," said Matilda. "Vassalhood is basically saying you're a retainer of the House you're swearing to. I believe the Goyle family is vassal to the Malfoy family for example. Engaged though - that would make Miss Granger the Lady Presumptive of House Potter. Attacking her in THAT case brings the full wrath of not only the Potter family but everyone that considers the Potters allies into the fight. The idea of starting a battle like that will stop a few threats before it ever escalates."

"I see," said Emma.

"Mind you there is a very large problem with that, but it was something we need to verify and you're probably going to want to have your husband present," said Matilda.

"What? Something wrong?" asked Emma. "What aren't you telling us?"

"Something recently confirmed with the blood tests," said Matilda. "We'll need a wizard to check for something as well."

"That sounds ominous," commented Emma.

"Actually, yes, that is one way to sum it up," allowed Matilda.

* break *

Dan and Emma Granger exchanged a glance and then back at the two before her, with the lawyer named Tonks present.

Finally it was Emma who spoke. "If this is so, then what do we need to do?"

"First off, don't declare a blood feud or anything of the sort. House Malfoy will simply deny everything and most likely you'd have a fatal accident," said the lawyer on retainer. "If Hermione can get any sort of official recognition from the main house, and that's unlikely, that would be a whole different kettle of fish. Second, we check to see if this was a permanent erasure. If it isn't, then the memories can be erased again if they cause too much difficulty."

"We are the sum of our memories and experience, so I'm rather put off by the whole idea of erasing chunks of memory," said Emma. "Do it."

Emma went stiff for a moment after the spell was cast.

"Dear?" asked Dan Granger.

"The party. There were three of us... dear heavens. How could I forget Danys?!"

"Danys? Your friend from high school? Didn't you say she married abroad?" asked Dan.

"Danys Littlefield, formerly of Suffolk. We were having a party celebrating my wedding, about three weeks before." Emma's eyes teared up.

"I'll check into the background, see if she turned up," said Agent Wildsong.

"Obliviate is normally permanent, but in cases like this where someone gets sloppy it can be temporary or it can be that whole swaths of memory are lost." The wizard shook his head. "This one looks sloppy. He had other concerns."

"Can he be held responsible for this?" asked Dan.

"Short answer: no. Long answer: probably not ever. The Malfoy family is fairly wealthy and maintains that wealth, keeping a web of bribes in order to continue their influence in wizarding society," said the lawyer.

* break *

"Ah, everywhere else is full. Mind if I take a seat here?"

"Go right ahead," said the boy.

"Thanks. Weasley. Ron Weasley," said the redhead.

"Ah," said the girl abruptly. "Weasley. Arthur and Molly. Purebloods but sided against the Death Eaters. Allies."

"Uhm, yes?" asked Ron.

"Sorry, new to a lot of this," said the boy, offering his hand. "Harry Potter. This is Hermione Granger, who the House of Potter is officially sponsoring."

The girl shot the boy a dirty look.

"Nobody is willing to tell us what a concubinage agreement entails so NO - that is OFF the table," said Harry.

"Spoilsport," said Hermione.

"What's a 'concubinage' anyway?" asked Ron.

"Nobody will bloody tell us, and the explanation I was able to get from that legal dictionary was that it was less than an engagement but stronger than a sponsorship," said Harry. Along with some remarks about exclusivity of use, which Hermione thought meant being something like a seneschal from a castle. Which made a certain degree of sense because the wizard world was really backwards in some respects.

"It would allow me at least limited access to that restricted section in the library," grumbled Hermione. So what if it required her to wear that maid uniform that had the long skirt and all. It also had the benefit of covering her rather bony knees up.

"Okay," said Ron, thinking they sounded like they were really good friends or something.

There was a minor moment, in which Hermione loudly disapproved of anything bought off the candy butcher's cart. Apparently she felt she had to be Harry's moral guardian, or at least stand in the way of him eating a bunch of candy.

Harry, on the other hand, countered with them being kids and therefore they had a moral and ethical responsibility to behave like kids and go wild on the purchasing of candy. Ron was in favor of this argument, as he was promised a solid bribe of five licorice whips and three chocolate frogs with the attendant cards.

"I can't believe you bribed him to side with you!" scolded Hermione.

"Isn't that how wizarding politics is handled?" asked Harry. "Have to get used to the idea sometime."

Hermione frowned at that for awhile, before finally giving out a grudging. "Point."

"So are you, really?" asked Ron finally.

"Am I what?" asked Harry.

"Really 'Harry Potter'?" asked Ron.

"Ah, philosophy," said Harry, nodding. "Afraid I never got into that very much. If it comes down to it, I think John Locke got it mostly. That identity is a function of thought."

"Actually," said Hermione drily. "I think he was asking you if you were sure that you are you. That your name is Harry Potter and you're not a poseur like in those children's novels."

"Oh," said Harry. "Yeah. I'm Harry Potter. The Boy-Who-Lived-With-His-Parents-Murdered-In-Front-Of-Him by a Lord Moldytoast."

"Who?" asked Ron.

"'Lord Moldytoast'? I'm not fond of a lot of her policies, but I did rather like the nickname she gave my parent's murderer," said Harry. "Serves to identify and insult him at the same time."

"So do you have it? The scar?" asked Ron.

"Oh. That," said Harry, lifting the hair covering the little lightning-bolt symbol.

"Wicked," breathed Ron.

"Yes, it's wonderful that every time I look in the mirror I see the evidence of parents being murdered," said Harry, a bit flatly.

"I think it looks a lot like the rune 'sowilo' myself," said Hermione. "And that's not bad at all."

"Sowilo?" asked Ron, mangling the word in the process.

"Rune. Means the sun. In Futhark it looks rather like his scar," said Hermione, rummaging around in her bookbag. "Got a picture of it here."

"That's okay, I'll take your word for it," said Ron, not ready to be subjected to more books than he had to be.

"It's a rune of power," said Hermione, sounding a bit put out. "Power to create, power to destroy. It's one of the runes considered necessary for life in fact. I'm sure there's more to it though."

* break *

"Danys Littlefield, born in Ipswich in Suffolk County. Attended Chantry Academy, moved to Essex where she made friends with Emma Eccleston, Athena Larson, and Matilda Smythe. Stayed in touch through college, though two of the four attended different colleges. Attended school with Emma. Vanished without a trace December 31, 1978."

"Dead end then."

"Afraid so. Considering that a Wizard Did It, she might have been turned into an animal or killed with the body disintegrated thereafter."

* break *

"Hermione Granger," called out McGonagall.

"Oh, THAT'S interesting," said the Sorting Hat. "Haven't seen one of those since, oh, I guess it was around 1888 or so."

"Is there a problem?" asked McGonagall.

"She's under an Academic Sponsorship with the House of Potter," said the Hat. "I think we'll have to go with Ravenclaw but allow cross-House visits if Mister Potter gets put in a different House. There's a precedent."

"Well, 1888 was a bit before my time," admitted McGonagall.

"RAVENCLAW," called out the Hat.

"I wanted Gryffindor," grumbled Hermione Granger at the hat as she took it off.

"But your academic and other activities," whispered back the Hat, "will be benefitted if you are in a different House."

It took awhile, but hardly anyone was surprised when Harry Potter was sorted into Gryffindor.

* break *

"So, House Potter has sponsored a mudblood," said Draco Malfoy. "I suppose that's about the best you could manage anyway."

"Ah, a wager between our Houses then?" asked Harry, putting down the book. That it was titled "A Muggle's Guide To Wizarding Culture" would have drawn scorn from many, but a spark of interest from anyone who had a clue what was coming.

"A wager?" asked Draco.

"In keeping with pureblood and higher society culture, of course, such things are commonly done," said Harry. "So. Exam times at the end of the year. If Hermione gets better scores than you - I win. If you beat her in at least three subjects, you win."

"What are the stakes," said Draco.

"Hundred galleons," said Harry. "Let's start with something just symbolic, as the Noble House Of Malfoy can easily afford such a pittance."

"Agreed," said Malfoy.

* break *

"Hermione is going to bloody bury him, isn't she?" asked Ron.

"She's been studying most of this stuff for over two years, and since she started learning Occulamency to improve her already good memory?" Harry chuckled.

"I do not appreciate being the subject of gambling," protested Hermione.

"Hermione, are you saying you don't appreciate the thought of being able to crush some pureblood git in an academic contest?" asked Harry innocently.

"Well," admitted Hermione, "maybe I'm not completely against it when you put it like that."

"It is upholding the honor and prestige of the Potter family," said Harry. "Even if it is just me at this point. I figured that the teachers wouldn't object to it all if it was all about grades."

Ron hesitated before he turned his full attention to Hermione. "Hermione. Please. Crush him underfoot like a beetle. If you do that, I promise to never call you 'Hermy' again."

"I hate being called 'Hermy'," said Hermione with a glare.

"I kind of got that impression," admitted Ron. "About the time you had the buckets chasing me. Please. Study hard."

"Ronald Weasley is begging me to study more," said Hermione. "Let me get over my shock before I begin revising here."

* break *

"She's... half-sister?!" said Draco Malfoy.

"Let me see that," demanded Lucius Malfoy.

The paperwork was handed off, and Lucius' expression changed from dismay to shock to something very rare for him. Embarassment.

"It's true then?" asked Draco.

Lucius nodded curtly. "Yes. I was young, they were muggles and therefore little more than animals. I was merely showing my dominance over such beasts, but this woman... yes it is certainly possible."

"So... she's not a mudblood after all," said Draco.

"If this is true, as it appears to be - no. Halfblood. Possibly had a squib in her ancestry. That would explain her test scores," said Lucius Malfoy as he considered. The girl might be sponsored by Potter, but if he pressed it then they had a better claim and could probably gain what appeared to be a very capable young witch under their own House. Being able to beat Potter AND claim a resource at the same time DID have a certain appeal.

"Father?" asked Draco, seeing the stony expression that meant his father was working out something complicated.

"I'll have to ponder this," said Lucius Malfoy finally. Haste was not required here after all.

* break *

"Oh," said Hermione. "So THAT'S what it means."

"Yes, Miss Granger, that's exactly what it means," said Minerva McGonagall, who was projecting 'disapproving' and 'stern' but was going to have a good laugh about this much later.

Hermione shuddered. "Doing THAT with a boy... No. Just no. Not in my contract."

"I'm glad that's cleared up," said Minerva McGonagall.

Hermione considered saying something about the outfit though. Looked rather nice actually in the painting. Not with her bony knees, and definitely not for her. Still, maybe in a nice vibrant red or something. It would work for those exercises she'd found, aerobics was a good way to keep fit with all the Ravenclaws just sitting around reading all day.

* break *

"Hermione," said Harry. "This is great!"

"Isn't it?" asked Hermione, currently in her recently discovered "I am a genius - praise me more!" attitude.

"What is it?" asked Ron.

Hermione flicked a button. Music started playing.

"Raven hair and ruby lips,

Sparks fly from her fingertips,

Echoed voices in the night,

She's a restless woman on an endless flight."

"You got a cassette player to work at Hogwarts," noted one of the older Gryffindor.

"Woo hoo witchy woman,

She got the moon in her eye."

"That's impossible," stated an older Gryffindor. "Muggle stuff doesn't work inside the wards."

"She held me spellbound in the night,

Dancing shadows and firelight."

"And yet it is playing," said Hermione, a certain justifiable pride in her voice.

"Don't show our father," said Fred Weasley.

"He'll confiscate it, tear it apart to check your work," added George.

"Then botch putting it all back together again," said Fred.

* break *

"Miss Granger," said Minerva McGonagall. "While I appreciate that you managed to work out a set of charms to make a muggle device work at Hogwarts, you are not allowed to have your own theme music. Nor is it appropriate for such to play whenever you exit or enter a room."

"Awwwwww."

"As it is," said McGonagall, "introducing some of those tunes to your fellow classmates is also not an appropriate use of time and resources."

"She's just upset because we keep humming 'The Cat Came Back' when she enters the room," grumbled George Weasley under his breath.

* break *

"She scored better than me in every subject save Potions," said Draco.

"And that's only with Severus practicing blatant favoritism," noted Lucius Malfoy. "Well. That puts a different spin on things."

"How so?" Draco was still feeling a bit ill over the possibility that this was his half-sister by a (shudder) muggle woman.

"I haven't found anyone suitable to sponsor who is of suitable lineage," said Lucius. "So finding a way to remove Potter's pawn from the board in another manner is being considered."

"Something to send her packing home, weeping in abject mortification?" asked Draco hopefully.

"There are many options on the table right now," said Lucius.

* end *

a/n: the idea of wizards of both genders going out and using love potions, obliviate, confundus, and similar things has been brought up by other authors and fits with most interpretations i've read of some of the more arrogant purebloods being right utter guttersnipes to any muggles who cross their path. The idea of one or more of them forgetting to use "protection" and ending up fathering what appears to be a muggle-born isn't one i've run across but considering how often such periods of forgetfulness happen in real life? And the idea of Hermione having a blood test somewhere down the line and finding out?

Oh, my - Draco would have a fit, would he not?

Probably would be better off fitted into another story by someone else. The possibility for angst and suffering is considerable.

As for various characters having "theme songs" - i'm sure that once they'd been exposed to various songs, the Weasley Twins could come up with charms to put on doorways that would basically be "If X (individual) passes through then play Y (song snippet)" and would come up with various "appropriate (or inappropriate) tunes. If one occurs to you, gentle reader, go ahead and pop it into the comments. i'm sure that "Age Of Aquarius" for the Astronomy teacher would be appro, but what about Snape?

Oh, and anonymous reviews are subject to deletion. Particularly if you're either being insulting OR your point falls into the "no damn sense" category. Such as when someone is insisting that a young boy speaking to what amounts to an ensouled self-aware computer he's had for most of his life MUST use proper diction and that verbal shorthand (when in quotes it is the indicated character speaking) is VERBOTEN. I mae e'en use soom form'a strung accent, don'cha know - wiff particular chara. From time to time at least. If I ever have McGonagall get her het up and go full brogue, I may put a phrase or two of THAT in there but I'm more likely to just refer to it as a Scottish brogue so thick you could sail on it.

I'm not overly concerned with review numbers. It's nice to have reviews, even if it's just the "so you're still alive" varieties, but I'm no longer trying to write stories due to health problems which are still plaguing me. On the good side, the biopsies so far have come back with negatives. On the not-so-good: migraine frequency up, GI tract still malfunctioning, and all meds have side-effects.

Take care.


	10. Chapter 10: Books

One Floo Under

being a collection of concepts dealing with the Wizarding World of Harry Potter originating from JK Rowling, written out for amusement but not a proper fic.

*break *

Accidental magic. Underage magic performed without a wand, erupting from a child under great emotional stress. They typically have no control over this magical eruption, which can sometimes perform effects that there are no actual spells to duplicate.

Anger, fright, confusion - these were all emotions that could fuel that burst of magic.

Harry Potter, age five and three-quarters, had reason at the moment to be frightened, angry, AND confused.

A dog that he'd thought cute for about twelve seconds had just been sicced on him, chasing him to a tree which he couldn't climb. He felt the teeth fasten upon one leg.

And abruptly, Harry Potter was simply not there.

*break*

Albus Dumbledore looked up from some paperwork dealing with a proposition to outlaw the use of muggle devices known as "ballpoint pens" from Hogwarts. Honestly, there was no reason not to go along with this - precision and control were needed with the use of quills and inkpots and teaching both qualities to the children attending his school was certainly reasonable. And if there were blots on the paper - there were spells for doing that and therefore more magic practice. All good in his book.

A little ceramic songbird was singing an old song he remembered from his youth. The tune was "I was seeing Nellie home." Which meant someone had just apparated from Harry Potter's home.

That was a little alarming but unless the other alarm...

A little figurine of a child moved slightly and then froze again.

Albus Dumbledore came from behind his desk so quickly that he nearly stumbled into the shelves in question. The figurine had taken a stance that indicated confusion and then frozen.

He hurried to the floo in his office, then flooed to the Leaky Cauldron, and from there apparated directly to 4 Privet Drive.

There he found a dog holding a chewed-on lower right leg of the right size to belong to a young boy. Which apparently all three adults present at the time had managed to ignore. According to the sole child, however, Harry had simply vanished. Along with a chunk of tree that he'd apparently been clinging to at the time.

Albus Dumbledore felt every one of his considerable years as he realized that Harry Potter had not only apparated but he'd splinched in the doing of it, trying to get away from what should have been his home. He had a considerable task in front of him as not only had he to find Harry, but the Boy-Who-Lived was going to be also a one-legged boy. After all, if magic could fix such a thing - Alastor Moody wouldn't be stumping around on a wooden one.

So he had to find Harry and that wouldn't be quick at all. Finding where Harry had gone would be difficult enough. Finding him quickly enough to stop the child from bleeding to death was not bloody likely. All he could hope for was that Harry had ended up somewhere that the bleeding could be stopped in time.

*break*

"As you told us last year, we have a missing Harry Potter who did a blind apparation at age five, leaving behind one leg. The wards around that house at Privet Drive have quite failed by this point." Minerva shook her head. "What exactly have you discovered in that year?"

"He's alive," said Albus Dumbledore. "Beyond that, I have nothing. Locating someone behind various wards is nearly impossible, so that seems the most likely cause."

Severus shook his head. "Gringotts, I take it?"

"Yes, the Potter account is still listed as active and contained, and the Head of House is still listed as Harry Potter," said Dumbledore. "Unfortunately the goblins are either unwilling or unable to provide further information, citing confidentiality even from his Magical Guardian."

"I suspect they are both unwilling AND unable," drily quipped Severus Snape. "Magical contracts and the like being what they are."

"I suspect that they do know rather more than that, as they were quite agitated after checking into the matter. It also seemed to take considerably longer than one would expect," said Dumbledore tiredly. "And even this much information was quite problematic to acquire."

There was silence in the room briefly, all three magicals considering the potential meanings of the events.

"If he apparated blind, from what he perceived as a dangerous situation," said Snape finally, "then his magic would have sought out a place that was deemed safe. A five-year old orphan - could he have ended up in the ancestral Potter home?"

"Checked that the second day," said Dumbledore. "The wards there have largely failed. The anti-muggle wards are about all that remain. I expect those to collapse shortly without anyone present in the home."

"See if you can send a squib housekeeper there then," advised Snape. "Even if they can't cast spells - they have enough of a magical core to see magic and put out a bit into their environment."

"That's... a good idea," said McGonagall, sounding astonished.

"So glad it comes as such a great surprise to you," drily stated Snape.

"It's just that I thought you HATED the Potters, and would like to see their home fall to ruin," said McGonagall.

"Oh, make no mistake, I do hate ONE particular Potter - who is beyond any vengeance I might manage," said Snape. "On the other hand, I have a certain sympathy for abused children. Even if it was the spawn of a certain James Potter."

"Ah," said McGonagall.

"Indeed," responded Snape.

* break *

Lawyers were universal to both the muggle and magical world. Law was a specialty with its own language and rituals, especially so in the magical world where magical contracts could be enforced with penalties that would make their mundane contemporaries wince. Or salivate. Depending on the lawyer in question of course.

Ted Tonks considered himself a fair lawyer, one who did "both sides of the fence" as sometimes muggleborn or muggle-raised had issues in that world or the magical side of things. Sometimes at the same time.

Strange person wanting to see him? Not that unfamiliar a situation.4

Strange person causing his receptionist to turn three shades paler than usual and look as if she'd be hitting that bottle of firewhiskey she thought was hidden in the file cabinet? VERY unusual. She usually kept that for a celebratory toast after a particularly difficult victory and he turned a blind eye to it because good help was often hard to find.

"Show them in," said Ted, one hand holding his wand under the cover of his desk.

The receptionist held the door open, but was holding it at full arm and finger extension as if she wasn't wanting to come anywhere near the doorframe itself.

Death walked in. Perhaps glided would be a better term.

"Erk," said Ted Tonks. "Do you mind if I..."

"GO AHEAD," said Death, each word sounding as loud as a shout despite being clearly whispered. It was as if the world itself quieted around each syllable.

A quick set of spells determined that this was absolutely not an illusion or disguise. Oh bugger.

"S-so," began Ted Tonks, trying to gather his professionalism as his receptionist slid around the Being and fled the office.

"NO. IT IS NOT YOUR TIME FOR MY PROFESSIONAL SERVICES. RATHER, IT IS YOUR PROFESSIONAL SERVICES I AM INTERESTED IN."

"I see," said a vastly relieved Ted Tonks. "A Last Will then?"

"NO. MY CLIENT IS AMONG THE LIVING. HE IS NAMED HARRY POTTER."

"Wha?" asked Ted Tonks. "The Boy-Who-Lived?"

"INDEED."

"So, uhm, what do you want a lawyer for?" asked Ted Tonks.

"STOPPAGE OF THESE 'HARRY POTTER' BOOKS, SINCE THERE WAS NO AGREEMENT FOR HIS LIKENESS OR NAME TO BE USED. FURTHER, A NEW AUTHOR MIGHT BE ACQUIRED TO PUBLISH RATHER MORE FACTUAL STORIES IF THERE IS SUFFICIENT REASON FOR SUCH TO CONTINUE."

"A factual account would require some actual facts," said Ted Tonks. "Nobody knows what happened with Harry Potter since that day. Well, with the exceptions of you and Harry Potter himself."

"EXCELLENT. I WAS TOLD YOU WOULD BE OF USE."

"So, uhm, Harry is with you but not dead," said Ted, wanting this point clarified.

"HE IS NOT WITH ME. I WAS CONTACTED BY A THIRD PARTY."

Ted blinked. "Someone has you on their rolodex?"

"NOT MANY DO," admitted Death. "YET THERE ARE THOSE WHO CAN ASK FOR MY ASSISTANCE, AND EVEN MORE RARELY - HAVE A HOPE OF RECEIVING SUCH."

"Uhm, okay, but why use Death as a messenger? Aren't you rather busy?" asked Ted.

"I AM OMNIPRESENT. WHERE THERE IS LIFE, THERE IS ALSO DEATH. AND I WAS AVAILABLE AND LESS FRIGHTENING THAN SOME OF THE OTHERS WHO COULD HAVE BEEN USED."

Ted tried to think of something more frightening than Death incarnate and decided not to pursue that particular tidbit of information. It might lead to him never sleeping again after all. "Well, I think we can do business. I'll have to start investigating things. Is it possible to have Harry come here to sign papers to that effect? No offense, but having him sign them elsewhere - even with Death testifying to their validity - gives a better chance that they'd be contested down the road."

Death's skeletal form considered the man briefly before nodding.

"Great. I'll make an appointment." Ted began checking his calendar. "How about next Tuesday at Eleven?"

"HE SHALL BE HERE." Death glanced towards the outer office. "YOU MIGHT SEE TO YOUR RECEPTIONIST. SHE WILL BE EARLY TO AN APPOINTMENT WITH ME IF SHE KEEPS THAT UP."

"I'll see to it right away," said Ted Tonks, wondering if he'd ever be able to tell anyone of this and be believed.

* break *

Albus Dumbledore had just popped a lemon drop into his mouth, enjoying the tart sweetness, when two of his quiescent alarms became considerably less quiescent. That very lemon drop was spat out with sufficient force that it slammed into the forehead of the now-entering Severus Snape.

"Somehow," said Severus, "I get the feeling this is a bad time."

The potions master removed the lemon drop which had been stuck to his forehead, sneering at it, then vanishing it with a flick of his wand while the headmaster consulted several instruments.

"Harry is back. He's in Diagon Alley, but I can't pinpoint where," said Dumbledore. "I've got to go."

Severus sighed as the headmaster vanished. "Fuss and bother. I'm sure that the boy is-"

"DEATH!" shrieked Sybil Trelawney, having rushed up the stairs and nearly bowling over Snape as she entered. "DEATH WALKS AMONG US! AND CONSULTS A LAWYER!"

Severus straightened his robes. "You know, just once, I'd like to hear a prophesy about a nice cup of tea. Or a particularly pleasant dinner. Perhaps, dare I even hope, some beer-battered cod on the menu."

"What?" said Sybil. "Did I say something?"

"Nothing of note," responded Severus. "Just my hopes that something pleasant would be prophesied instead of the usual sort of thing."

"I..." Sybil went stiff.

"Okay," said Severus, raising an eyebrow.

Sybil rose up off the ground, a pillar of light forming around her.

"Now THIS is different," noted Severus Snape, slightly impressed despite himself.

"SHE COMES! IN THE SAME CLASS AS THE PROPHESIED BANE OF THE DARK LORD! SHE WILL STAND ALONGSIDE HIM AND DEFEND THE DEFENSELESS! THE BRIGHTEST WITCH OF HER GENERATION! THE POTIONS PRODIGY AND CHARMS MISTRESS! ONE WHO IS NOT A DUNDERHEAD SHALL COME TO HOGWARTS!"

There was a thud as a fainted Sybil Trelawney hit the floor.

Severus was thoughtful as he levitated the Divinations teacher off the floor, then briefly turned his gaze towards the ceiling. "Thank you."

It appeared something was listening.

* break *

"Huh, a new Harry Potter series?" asked Molly. "What happened to the old one?"

"Put in fiction and discontinued," said the shop clerk. "These are new and authorized."

Molly turned the book towards her and read the cover. "'Harry Potter And The Inn Beyond Time'?"

The shop clerk smiled slightly, then turned the pages until the photograph section was revealed.

Molly Weasley's eyes widened at the sight of the first photograph, then quickly turned the page to the next two photographs.

"It's real," said the shop clerk. "And it is practically flying off the shelves. Just wait until the lunch crowd starts coming in."

* break *

Minerva McGonagall slapped the book down on the desk. "He's been found."

"'Harry Potter And The Inn Beyond Time'?" asked Albus Dumbledore. "Seriously, Minerva, what are you..."

The Deputy Headmistress flipped it open to the photograph section.

"What?" asked Albus Dumbledore, staring at the photo of an inn. The inn itself wasn't that unremarkable, of the sturdy sort of sprawling design that would look perfectly at home in medieval times or for that matter in Hogsmeade. The background of stars, shattered moons, constellations that did not fit anything he'd ever seen - a bit harder to accept.

And the picture of a five-and-change-old boy with messy hair, glasses, and lightning-bolt scar was smiling at the camera while sitting on the claw of a dragon that went beyond the descriptor of Large and well into a category beyond Huge.

"What?" asked Albus, who was quite familiar with various dragon breeds and was also quite unable to place a species on this one. That it was alive and seemed quite tolerant of the child in front of it was apparent.

"Fictional accounts usually have illustrations," said Minerva McGonagall. "Photographs this detailed with the usual animation? No. This is quite real."

"Excellent Minerva," said a beaming Albus. "I'll contact the publisher and we'll have Harry back at Privet Drive before the end of tomorrow."

* break *

"What do you mean 'no'?" asked Albus Dumbledore.

"What part of 'no' do you not understand?" said the receptionist. "No. Nein. Non. Not an option. Not going to happen. You'd need a subpeona for any information, and you're going to have a difficult time getting that. And there is NO. WAY. No chance I'm going to have the person who initially contacted our firm about Mister Potter come back here - especially if I expect That One to be vexed with me about it."

"But really, it's for the Greater Good," said Albus Dumbledore. "For the good of the child himself I must insist."

"You've a better chance of getting me to work in a theme park," said the receptionist. "Not. Going. To. Happen."

"I see," said Albus Dumbledore, throwing a quick legillimancy probe at the witch. It met no resistance, finding the memory quickly and...

He was suddenly facing An Eternal Truth. Which, despite being images in the witch's memory, turned and addressed him.

"THE WAND AND CLOAK YOU HAVE FOR NOW, BUT IN THE END ALL ARE MINE."

Albus shook his head as the memory ended.

"That was an illegal memory probe," said a nearby voice. "Seriously, Dumbledore? Do you WANT people aligning themselves with Lucius Malfoy just to be rid of you?"

"Ah, the barrister," said Albus, putting on his most grandfatherly manner. "Harry really must return to his previous address, there are blood wards and a home protection available there."

"Whereas he is now currently off adventuring in another universe entirely, alongside people who could squish You-Know-Who like a grape," countered Ted Tonks. "I'm not going to stick my head into THAT nest. I'm going to suggest you just wait for further books in the series."

"'Series'?" asked Albus, off-balance and not used to that at all.

"The book 'Harry Potter and the Inn Beyond Time' is just the first book in the series," stated Ted Tonks. "Dealing with his escape from Privet Drive, finding himself in an Inn at the Crossroads Of Realities, and his subsequent adventure involving dragons and celestials and exotic creatures that live in that very Beyond."

"So he's in danger?" asked Albus, ready to pounce on that lead.

"Almost as much as you're in," said Ted Tonks.

"Now now," said Dumbledore. "There's no cause for such an over-reaction. I'm merely concerned about young Harry and want him to be safe when you yourself admit that he's in harm's way."

"He's in an entirely different world," pointed out Tonks. "By the way, if that damage to my receptionist is permanent - you're also going to be billed for her rehabilitation."

"Eh?" asked Albus, before turning and realizing the receptionist was drooling on herself. He withdrew the mental probe. "Not my fault. I would have been right out if..."

"AURORS! PUT YOUR WANDS DOWN!"

"You called the Aurors?" asked Dumbledore.

"You expected a lawyer to match wands with the Supreme Mugwump? I know when I'm in over my head," said Tonks. "If my Hogwarts education hasn't hurt me none, I can read the writing on the wall."

"Eh?" asked Albus, still facing the Aurors.

"It's a quote. Kodachrome," responded Ted Tonks.

"Gezundheit. Gentleman, this is all a mistake," said Albus Dumbledore.

"Grkle," managed the receptionist.

"Well, at least she's not drooling so much anymore," said Tonks.

* break *

"This one's got something different," said Molly, putting the book down in front of her youngest.

"'Harry Potter & The Cursed Book'?" asked Ginny, opening it up and find a sliver of crystal in the photo section.

"Apparently they've got a supply of these duplicated by the people who send the textbooks," said Molly. "People are trying to figure out how to duplicate them."

"What is it?" asked Ginny, noting that the crystal was paper-thin and had tiny coppery wires imbedded in it. It was also on a stiffened page in the center.

"The clerk demonstrated," said Molly. "Run your finger down the center and provide a bit of magic."

On the third try, Ginny managed it and a picture appeared in mid-air above the book. Except that this was three-dimensional and the view changed as if one was actually looking through a window into a scene. Except it was a scene from Hell apparently.

It was a city much like muggle London, but it was being invaded.

There was Harry Potter, standing on a rooftop, still looking nine years of age but a bit less emaciated. Also wearing black and blue armored clothing that fit him.

"What's the sitrep?" asked a woman in some odd clothing that had metal plates affixed to various points.

"Army of the Dead attacking the city. We're outnumbered, trying to protect the civilians who didn't evacuate, and facing a necromancer who put his soul into a book and then used that to do a curse that switched his soul with that of the reader," said a red-headed woman with a spear.

"Is it Tuesday already?" asked the first woman.

"Reports are seventy percent evacuation, ten percent have hardened shelters after the last attack," said an old man with a scruffy mustache and very little other hair, looking into some sort of glowing orb he held in one hand. "Artha is unavailable for back-up. We're going to have to make do with on-site resources."

"What are we facing?" asked the first woman, clearly the commander of this group.

The bald guy made a pass with his free hand over the orb then adjusted his glasses as he studied whatever he saw there. "Seventy zombies of E-Rank. Nine are C-Rank. Two are of B-Rank and have Devices, Belkan manufacture. The Book Of Caged Souls is definitely a Lost Logia, and a Cursed Artifact. Type III, I think - I'd need to be able to scan it at closer range to be sure. Based on energy output so far - I'm guessing the necromancer is currently high B or low A in Rank."

"So, not as bad as that one Takamichi and her crew faced but still has the potential to get very bad," said the commander. "All right. Danae, Hiroko, Grace - flight and take on the ground troops. When the C-Ranks and above start getting involved you need to pair up at that time. Harry, you and Sybin stay here. Sybin, you remain in contact with us and call out for strays and trouble spots. If you see anyone in trouble, communicate that to nearest allies. Harry - you use the wards and maintain them. You know that if Sybin is doing his Clairvoyance work that he's not paying attention to where his body is. You need to be his eyes and ears here."

"Problem," said Sybin, his eyes not leaving the orb. "They know we're here. Wave of zombie cannon fodder approaching."

The commander nodded. "If they are 'cannon fodder' then it's best we unleash some cannon. Ed, make an opening in the ranks and you three make the most of it. I'll be fielding anti-army attacks. Go."

The four women took off at high speed, flying without broomsticks or other flight mechanisms that Ginny Weasley was familiar with.

The large man, apparently Ed, mumbled something and was then holding what looked like a large muggle device called a 'gonne' or something. He began firing bolts of azure fire that exploded through what looked like an approaching mob.

Except you could see as the remainder approached. These were inferi, undead troops who hungered for the blood of the living.

The redheaded woman swooped up and a two-handed scythe seemed to just appear in her hands. "Gather the forces of the storm gale winds. Let my enemies be swept to Hel's embrace. Rage and Ruin!"

Molly reached over and touched the crystal, ending the playback. "Enough of that for now. You'll have time later and I'm not too sure this is good reading material for someone as young as yourself."

Ginny turned pleading eyes upon her mother. "But Mooooooom!"

"That puppy-dog look may work on your father, but it isn't working on me," said Molly.

\- break -

While he was as prone as anyone to come to a conclusion and then resist changing it, Albus Dumbledore was capable of changing his mind about something. Particularly when several people he worked with were quite ready to bludgeon him repeatedly with the book in question.

That book being "Harry Potter and the Inn Beyond Time" with wizarding-style photographs to back up some of the otherwise outrageous claims within its pages.

Fact: Harry Potter had left the Dursley home through a particularly powerful burst of accidental magic.

Fact: As it WAS accidental magic and apparation was difficult enough to achieve - it was not surprising that he'd splinched and left behind a limb.

That was what he'd known and what the book had confirmed. What the book covered was almost beyond belief despite having evidence.

Chapters 1-3 had covered a rather unhappy life with the Dursley family that Albus had confirmed by visit. Harry Potter had indeed been shoved into a cupboard under the stairs, had indeed been locked into place overnight, had indeed been treated like a rather unruly house elf.

Chapter 4 had begun with his vanishing from that place and ending up landing in a sort-of stables just outside an inn that was in some sort of pocket dimension outside what would normally be considered the world. That this was even possible - Albus had no doubt there were Unspeakables in the Department of Mysteries researching at that very moment.

There was a photo titled "The Usual Unusual Crowd" that purported to show the sort of clientele typically found at that very Inn. There were humans there, some whose humanity was somewhat less certain, and others who would not be mistaken for human except by an exceptionally drunk person on a particularly foggy day and even then it wasn't freaking likely.

Also apparently, that Harry had magic and came from Earth and Great Britain was soon determined by several of the inhabitants of said Inn. The revelation that there were not only more than one Earth but quite a few Great Britains was detailed near the end of that chapter. That it was apparently not so much a matter of finding a "needle in a haystack" so much as finding a "needle in a mountain of other needles" to return him home was the problem with returning Harry to his home. Only that one of those involved was apparently named Anubis who had a working relationship with Death itself allowed this crowd any chance of even relaying a message back.

That Death would not ferry anyone back and forth between its realm and any other realm was understandable. As Death itself put it - Death's realm was a final destination and not a transfer hub. As Harry DID have a Destiny though - the idea (with apparently a number of strong drinks being involved) was hit upon to assure everyone who cared about him of his health and apprise them of his progress towards returning him to the proper world. Hence the book series being sent by Death who apparently found it amusing and thought that someone who had temporarily cheated on his appointed time might end up pissing his robes on reading of Harry's adventures to be a plus.

Harry ended up with one trip back to his proper Earth but it was temporary and through Death's methods. Methods of tracking such movement were somewhat unreliable, but according to an individual named "Sabin" - they were able to eliminate over two and a half billion potential Earths as being Harry's home reality at that point.

Death didn't care much for cheaters, unless you could manage to win his respect by the method apparently.

So, the individual he had originally planned to browbeat was apparently an Incarnation of Death itself. Albus Dumbledore wasn't sure if he believed that part, but allowed that perhaps his original plan to find and browbeat the individual might not have worked out in his favor.

Now if he could just manuever Lucius Malfoy into trying the same tactic. THAT would be a meeting he'd bring popcorn and watch with great interest.

Chapter 5 dealt with the process whereby Harry could find his way into a world and then back out again. Until he'd learned enough or was old enough to travel himself, Harry would be accompanied by at least one capable adult. Albus found himself both concerned by the individual chosen and reassured that Harry had at least something looking out for him.

Because what they'd chosen was a dragon. Not a simple beast such as the local dragons, this was of a breed called a Greater Horned Dragon. Which was intelligent, able to cast spells, able to change its shape in order to blend into a populace, and older than Magical Britain itself by nearly an order of ten.

There was a picture of the dragon with Harry in the book. It looked fairly formidable. Certainly even he at his age and with his accomplishments - he would be somewhat apprehensive at having any sort of dispute with such a thing that was capable of spellcasting on its own. Which made this another meeting he'd like to arrange for Lucius Malfoy, depending on how vexed he was with the individual at any given moment.

Albus Dumbledore briefly indulged himself in the idea of certain blood supremicist types being crunchy and good with ketchup.

Chapter 6 through the end of the book dealt with Harry's adventure in that other Great Britain. A Great Britain with no Statute Of Secrecy, in which the Napoleonic Wars had been fought with dragons. Napoleon with air support, now that was a scary thought. Apparently the dragons of that particular realm were also intelligent, though not spellcasters. In fact, after considerable searching on the parts of dragon and Harry, there appeared to be NO spellcasting society at all.

Dragons had been integrated into that society, as intelligent beings that bonded with humans but were quite capable of looking out for themselves. Many were adopted into human families where they remained The Dragon Of The Family for multiple human generations. In peace, the dragons were couriers and guardians and repositories of knowledge. They were even integrated into various sports throughout Great Britain. Harry's Guardian, who went by the name of Ruth while in human form, found that world to be somewhat enlightened despite the lack of spellcasters.

That it was NOT the correct Earth or Britain had been apparent nearly instantly to the reader but somewhat less to Harry, who found the whole experience rather novel and exciting, or to his guardian. Eventually, after an adventure dealing with some group repeatedly trying to capture a shape-shifting dragon after an ill-timed transformation to check out the territory from the air, the two returned to the Inn.

The end of the book had Harry return to the Inn with the plan to try another Great Britain, and a conversation with someone who was apparently used to travelling through time and space but had apparently been aiming for somewhere else entirely.

Albus approved of the decision not to entrust Harry's well being to someone who apparently regularly ended up somewhere other than intended. Also apparently frequently the wrong TIME. No, it was far better that Harry avoided that sort of complication.

As to Harry's skills, being trained in various muggle fighting methods wasn't likely to be of any use altogether though perhaps training up his reflex speed and ability to dodge could be adapted to proper wizarding combat.

After he'd finished, taking a little over seven months to do so, the problem with so many duties that came with his many titles was the time involved, he prepared to tell Minerva McGonagall that he'd finished catching up with Harry's adventures only to find a second book in her possession.

Something about the title seemed quite ominous to him.

\- break -

Ginny Weasley had taken four months to read through each book the first time. At which point she realized something quite astonishing. Each book detailed a year's experience and they'd come out less than a year apart.

Book two, "Harry Potter and the Cursed Book", dealt with a book of ancient spells called the "Book Of Caged Souls" which was apparently an example of Exactly What It Says On The Tin. A dark wizard who thought everyone was out to get his secrets created a book to trap the souls of those foolish enough to read it and lay out all of THEIR secrets. Then the wizard had put his own soul into there in order to possess the body of the person who had gotten themselves trapped.

It was a Great Britain that had no Statute of Secrecy and indeed had wizards accounted valuable citizens within their society. There were magicals in positions of power and others in positions of poverty. Yet everyone had their chance - some wealthy lords lost their wealth and ingenious use of magic and cleverness could see the pauper become a baron of industry.

Oh, to be sure, there were some muggles (referred to as non-magicals or mundanes depending on the situation and the speaker) who were consumed by envy of their magical brethren. There was even a version of Harry's Aunt and Uncle in this world who were exactly such people. When Harry met native-Harry though - he was not with those relatives at all. Instead he was staying with a friend of the family, a "private detective" named Remus Lupin. As with her Harry, native-Harry's parents had died fighting someone named Voldemort who had been in favor of taking control of the government and making all magicals a new nobility and revoking the rights of anyone not-magical. A major departure however had been that whenever this Voldemort attacked non-magicals those same non-magicals had fought back as they knew exactly what they were facing.

Also apparently, not being magically inclined did not mean one was completely helpless. She actually cheered when a set of costumed terrorists attacking Buckingham Palace were hit with tear gas and some form of lightning generation called a "taser" repeatedly.

For some reason, when she mentioned the idea of researching a spell to do the same thing at dinner - the twins grew very quiet for a time. How curious.

So Harry teamed up with Harry on the case Remus Lupin (P.I.) was involved in which involved the book mentioned on that very cover and ended up meeting a group of dimensional travelers much like himself. Some form of world-crossing aurors who were hunting down things like that book and putting an end to them.

Fortunately, there was no such thing as the Book of Caged Souls in HER world.

\- break -

Albus glanced up from his perusal during breakfast to note that Minerva was standing before him and holding ANOTHER book in the series. "Oh bother."

The picture on this cover was of Harry wearing an unusual set of hooded robes, white with a red design at the trim, holding a staff above his head. Instead of the contrived false-leg he'd had in the other two covers - this one appeared to be natural.

"'Harry Potter & the Golden Chocobo'?" asked Albus Dumbledore. "What the Merlin is a chocobo?"

Minerva flipped the book to the photograph section, brought her wand to tap on another of those thin crystal things, and they both listened to the gasps from the students at the tables as an image formed.

One could call it a chicken, in that it had two legs and was clearly a bird that spent nearly all of its time on the ground. Except that this was a lean creature that was much taller than he was, had very intelligent looking eyes, and looked at least somewhat capable of defending itself a bit more than the average chicken. It was also cleaner than the chickens he was used to seeing in various farmyards. The average chicken also did not wear a SADDLE.

"Oh my, an example of Gastornis Gigantea Magicus," said Professor Kettleburn with obvious delight. "They're extinct, but were raised by Slavic wizards until the mid-1700s. How delightful!"

"I'm not familiar with them," admitted Dumbledore.

"I think it was Baba Yaga who hunted them to extinction, she'd wear out a pair of legs on her magical hut and then go off to hunt a new pair," said Kettleburn, the Care of Magical Creatures professor sounding quite put out by the idea.

"Ah," said Dumbledore. He'd never really researched creatures that had gone extinct, as there hadn't ever seemed a point to it. Everyone had their passions however, and more power to them within limits of course.

The moving three-dimensional picture of the chocobo seemed to regard everyone present briefly before turning its attention to a large bushel of some sort of plant material and grabbing up a mouthful of it.

"I WANT one," said a girl in Ravenclaw.

"Broom would be faster, and not require as much upkeep," pointed out a more practical Ravenclaw.

"Don't like flying, and that looks like it would be fast enough," said the first Ravenclaw. "Not to mention smart enough to avoid obstacles on its own, leaving me more time to read!"

"Imagine the drumsticks!" called out a Gryffindor.

"Kweh!" said the image before disappearing.

* break *

"Look, Daddy, it's a no-horned snorkack!" Luna looked over the image of the "chocobo" (obviously mislabeled) that had appeared from the book and estimated the speed of such a thing.

"My goodness, I thought they were extinct!"

"I wonder if I can get Harry Potter to send us a specimen. After all, if he's able to send books our way - then why can't we try to send messages back the same way?"

"Genius, Poppet! Let me quill out a quick request and send it to the publisher!"

* break *

There was a figure in several of the backgrounds of the photographs, flickering in and out of visibility.

One of the Ravenclaws finally had a name to go with the mysterious figure. "Chapter 11. Gentiana."

"Like the flower?" asked one of the other Ravenclaws, who was more of a Herbology focus than the first.

A raven-haired Asian who wore a simple outfit of mostly black, who seemed to smirk slightly at the camera whenever she was in the background of a scene.

A cold breeze seemed to flit past the Ravenclaw table.

* break *

"Okay, another point of information, now I can triangulate a bit," said Sabin. "Two more points and I'll be able to pinpoint it exactly."

"Good work," said one of the officers. "If they're right and he's got a Destiny - we need to get him back as soon as we can."

* break *

"Minister, you need to block these new 'Harry Potter' books! Why, the shamefulness of them!"

Cornelius Fudge blinked and looked up from the crossword puzzle he was working on. "Delores? What on Earth are you going on about now?"

Delores Umbridge plopped a book down on his desk and stabbed down with a finger. "THIS!"

"Eh? What?" asked Fudge, before looking at the picture in question. The things. The people. The things that might also be people. "What exactly am I looking at?"

"A copy of the latest trash to come out," said Umbridge, her jowls quivering in agitation. "Wizards consorting with, with, clearly inferior species! Oh, I can barely even speak of it!"

"I wish," mumbled Fudge.

"Pardon?" asked Umbridge, thinking she clearly must have misheard.

"Oh, nothing nothing," said Fudge, examining the photograph a bit more. He blinked and stared at one figure in the background, who seemed to jiggle in a manner that was entirely interesting to certain instincts that predated the split between wizard and muggle. "I must say that I don't recognize any of these. And the title - 'the usual unusual crowd' doesn't make much sense."

"These inferior species need to be brought under control," said Umbridge. "These fabricated claims and those falsified photos! It is entirely unacceptable that our youth should be exposed to this nonsense."

"I'm not familiar with..." Fudge flipped the book closed to look at the cover. "'Harry Potter and the Inn Beyond Time' eh? 'Third Printing'?"

"Yes," said Umbridge, still quivering with outrage.

Fudge examined the photograph in more detail, purely for purposes of understanding what had triggered Umbridge this time. Honestly, he just wanted to make a dishonest living and cause as few ripples as possible that might lead to him becoming a FORMER Minister Of Magic. If this was in the third printing, there was a lot of voters or potential voters who had gotten copies of this already. What good did it do him to ban a book? "What exactly is this?"

"Some form of house elf, I believe," said Delores Umbridge.

"If house elves looked like THAT," declared Cornelius Fudge, "get me one for the front office." He silently appended that he wanted said house elf to be wearing exactly the sort of tight outfit as in the photograph.

"Minister," said Umbridge.

"Have you read this book then?" asked Fudge.

"Well, no," admitted Umbridge.

"I see," said Fudge. "Well, if it is in the third printing then there's nothing to be done at this point, is there?"

"Minister," complained Umbridge.

"Look, you want me to ban a book you haven't read which has apparently been out for some time," said Fudge. "At least get a better reason that I can take to the Wizengamot and not look like a fool."

"Too late," mumbled Umbridge.

"Pardon?" asked Fudge.

"Nothing, sir, just a bit of after-lunch gas," said Umbridge. "I'll get right on it."

Fudge sighed after the woman left. "She didn't take the book. Hmmm. I wonder if it says where I can get a 'house elf' that looks that close to human, and looks like she'd give a few veela envy."

* break *

The first book had been "Harry Potter & The Inn Beyond Time" which was followed by "Harry Potter & The Cursed Book" which in turn was followed by "Harry Potter & The Golden Chocobo" which was followed by "Harry Potter & The Iron Baron" - by the time of which everyone had noticed that while a year passed for Harry within the books - the books themselves were released more haphazardly.

It was in the tale of the Iron Baron that the reason came out during a conversation between Harry and the giantess who had the unfortunate name of "Gridr" or "Greed" but was actually quite nice about things provided one called her something else. Harry called her "Griddle" and explained waffles to her - and the two immediately got on famously as she considered the possibility of ridding herself entirely of that name. And if she made lots of waffles with which to bribe people with - it was certainly no skin off Harry's back.

Griddle explained that different worlds had different rates of time, usually the difference was small and hardly with noting. The Inn Beyond Time on the other hand, was a sort of "pocket time" where one could spend hours and come back to find only a few seconds had passed. So, she noted a danger to young Harry - that he could spend years finding his home only to find centuries had passed. Or hours.

Then Ginny turned to the last page and saw that Gentiana from the "Golden Chocobo" was back, and the last line of the book of "Iron Baron" shocked her.

"Young Prince, I have found your home."

* break *

Gentiana followed three steps behind and to the right, her eyes closed but apparently quite aware of her surroundings.

"Why are you doing this?" asked Harry.

"The young Prince returns to his homeland," softly replied Gentiana. "Some would say it is like a fairy-tale."

"What about following along behind me?" asked Harry.

"Oh look - an owl," said Gentiana.

"Yeah. Convenient that one shows up when you want to change the subject. And I am not a prince." Harry watched the owl approach and land on a railing.

"I'm really not sure about owls carrying letters though," said Gentiana. "Doesn't it interfere with flight? Not get tied correctly and then ends up lost?"

The owl hooted disdainfully in response.

"Oh, well, that's certainly telling me," said Gentiana.

"Hang on, uhm, what do you give an owl for a fee for service?" asked Harry as he untied the letter.

"A mouse? A cricket? Bacon?" tried Gentiana.

The owl hooted at that last suggestion.

"Uhm, hang on," said Harry, darting into a store and returning a moment later with a beef jerky stick.

The owl gave a long suffering sigh, but took the jerky stick.

"Huh. Mister Harry Potter, King's Cross Station, and so on. How'd they know I'd be here? I didn't know I'd be here," said Harry.

"If you must know, this world has yuki-onna, and I will be departing from you to go visit my little cousins," said Gentiana. "Well, sort of cousins."

Harry looked up from his letter. "You told them."

"Well, just the owl," said Gentiana.

"This does not bode well," said Harry Potter.

"I don't know, I think it might be entertaining," said Gentiana.

"That REALLY does not bode well," corrected Harry.

* break *

"Ah, Harry, good to see you back," said Albus Dumbledore. "We'll discuss you returning to your home shortly."

"No," said a woman, seeming to appear in swirl of cold air and snow.

"I beg your pardon," said Albus Dumbledore, who could tell two things immediately because he WAS a fairly old and accomplished wizard. One, this woman might look like a woman of Asian descent who dressed quite properly if a bit darkly - was not human. Veela, or some similar species was a possibility but not a sort that he could immediately place. Two, powerful. Quite powerful.

"I will give pardon, for now," said the woman, inclining her head. "Harry will not return to his previous home. He is staying with me for a time, until I find a proper place for him to stay."

"The blood wards and protections that can be re-erected at the Dursley home will keep him safer than anything you can possibly imagine," tried Albus Dumbledore.

"No," said the woman.

"I'd really rather not return to living in a cupboard under the stairs," said Harry. "Even if I could use magic to expand the space and make it more livable."

"Well, there are laws against underage magic, so I'm afraid that wouldn't be possible. On the other hand, I can certainly speak with the Dursleys about the accomodations," said Dumbledore.

"Harry," said the woman, holding out a hand. "I've found a place. Come."

Albus Dumbledore was very quick when he wanted to be. He threw out a tracking charm because he wasn't quite sure WHAT would happen if he'd tried a paralyzation spell.

The air rippled as Harry and the woman disappeared.

Albus Dumbledore smiled, checked, and then abruptly lost his smile. As apparently the two were now in Japan.

He distinctly hoped that Harry was not going to be enrolled in Mahoutokoro School Of Magic. Getting him back to England would be quite difficult if that was the case.

* break *

Author Notes - i'm not sure if the "Harry Potter" fictional books is canon or fanon at this point. But the thought did occur to me - what if there was a similar series but Harry had actually gone through those sorts of adventures?

as to what kind of magic Harry could learn, this idea was all about the above concept. Harry Potter adventure books that actually dealt with some great Grand Adventure he'd been on prior to ever arriving at Hogwarts. This could leave him not going to Hogwarts at all in fact.

oh, and the reason for the books was to look for the ripples in the timestream where Death delivered them. Each book in the series narrowed the search a bit further. When Gentiana (Shiva) got involved, she was mainly curious. If you go over to youtube and put her name in, there's video of her if someone wants to use the concept. Got to love her way of shutting off the snark.

As to Death - paying off a favor and finding out that Voldie was cheating death annoyed him. That's his motive.


	11. Chapter 11: Back From The Future

One Floo Under #11

a series of unfortunate ideas which deal with Harry Potter which i have no intention of fleshing out into a fic.

i blame that i've got a bit over an hour's travel time to and from work every day. Sufficiently long that the mind wanders and can end up in unfamiliar territory. If there IS a fic with this idea down, be sure to list the title in comments so i can take a gander and see where someone else's muse ended up.

Though i admit that knowing that it will irritate certain trolls was a major reason to just go ahead and jot the idea down.

* break *

Hermione was watching her prey. Sort of prey. Well, it all depended on one's point of view she supposed.

Due to the nature of time travel, certain cruxpoints were easiest to get to. Sort of like stations on the train. Even she didn't understand all of it, but that was the nature of Base 60 math married to arithmancy and the runeset she'd been working with.

Travel through time was two-way with one (forward) being a LOT easier to do. The initial spell she'd run across, which hadn't even been in the restricted section, had been for going forward in time by a period of two years. The spell itself was worked out in a book on spell creation theory, and the writer had pointed out that it was fairly useless and had been developed after the writer had learned of mass extinctions and how to avoid being part of one. A major limitation was that one's magic and mind and memories and soul were all able to time-jump but the body being purely physical and an anchor for the rest did NOT. Which made it rather useless for surviving a mass extinction.

Time-jumping backwards took a lot more energy, could only be done at a major ley line nexus and only at certain times of the year, and basically threw one's mind and memories and magic into one's own past at a major cruxpoint in your history. To do the same thing physically required more power than she was going to have available to her even with all the preparations she'd made. Would make. Time travel tended to confuse things like that.

Which had brought her here. To the train going to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry on their very first day of their very first year.

Naturally, instead of going to a compartment with Neville and going through the whole "missing toad" quest - she'd immediately gone to Harry's compartment. Why go through all the intermediate steps when one could cut immediately to the good part? Not to mention that she'd been rather worried about how the whole time-displacement thing had worked out and seeing Harry again had been a rather high priority.

That had gone well, and instead of pointing a wand in his face and repairing his glasses to show off her skill - she'd asked first. It had been rather rude the first time through, and having him get used to people shoving a wand in his face was hardly survival-productive.

Then Daphne Greengrass had shown up, without her friend Davis, and politely introduced herself. When called on the overly-formal mannerisms, Hermione (and not incidently Harry) had been informed of the whole wizarding-world politics thing and how proper manners were stressed in many circles. Not following the forms was considered quite rude and bitter feuds had been known to start over such slights.

About halfway through the explanation more girls had begun showing up. Also chiming in on this or that point, offering little bits of advice or examples on how things worked within the wizarding worlds and things to try and avoid.

By the time that Ron Weasley made his appearance, the compartment was rather full. She had no idea if Neville found his toad Trevor, but considering the toad had somehow showed up at the steps of Hogwarts without apparently anyone noticing the wayward amphibian - she wasn't going to worry about that. No, much more concerning was how everyone seemed especially solicitous of Harry and familiar with him...

Oh.

Wait a moment.

Could it be?

"Harry? I think we need to get ready for arriving at Hogwarts. We need to change into our Hogwarts robes." Hermione took hers out of her suitcase, trying to give him the hint.

"Ah, right," said Harry. Who himself looked a bit dazed and confused.

"Harry? We can't change with you here," said Daphne Greengrass.

"Ah, right," repeated Harry, getting his robes out of his suitcase and scurrying off. He was not running or panicking, thank you.

After he'd left, Hermione took a deep breath to settle herself. "Everyone who has certain future endeavors in mind..."

"You're from the future too," said Daphne.

"Well, yes, I was trying to get to that," said a slightly-miffed Hermione. "Raise your hands if you've come Back From The Future."

Hermione raised her hand. Daphne raised her hand. Susan raised her hand. Cho raised her hand. Luna raised her hand. The Patil twins raised their hands. Su Li raised her hand.

"I meant to ask you about that, Luna. You don't even start until next year," said Hermione.

Luna shrugged. "I'm just riding the train, and writing about my experiences for the Quibbler. Press passes can be quite useful."

Hermione was thoughtful for a moment before Greengrass delicately cleared her throat.

"How many of us were married to Harry Potter in the future?" asked Daphne.

Again a show of hands.

"Of course," said Hermione, realizing what this meant. "We didn't come from THE future, we came from A future. Oh bother."

"How many of us saw large numbers of people die in the war against the Dark Lord, and Harry dies to a surviving Death Eater almost twenty-five years down the road?" asked Luna.

All those hands showed again.

"Well, this is a bit of a problem," said Hermione.

"Hadn't expected competition," agreed Daphne.

There was silence briefly, broken by Susan speaking. "Maybe not."

"No? I assume each of us wants to end up with Harry at the end of this," said Hermione.

"You're thinking of cooperating until that stage?" asked Daphne.

"No," said Susan. "We're all married to Harry and we had ceremonies where we used the usual magical oaths right?"

"Oh bother," said Hermione, eyes widening. "That would mean..."

"We're all already married to Harry?" asked Daphne. "How does that even work? Admittedly it's not against the law or anything in the magical world. Rare as all and usually just two wives and even then only in special circumstances."

"We spring Sirius Black early, prove his innocence, and then let him trick us into signing up for Harry's harem?" asked Luna. "That could work."

"We'll discuss this later," promised Hermione. "Right now we're ELEVEN. Just be his friend for now and we need to change into our robes anyway."

* BREAK *

Harry confronted Draco directly across the table.

"What is it, Potter? Lose your way?"

"I've heard the rumors, Malfoy," said Harry. "I'll say it to your face. I'm not interested."

Draco was curious as to what rumors. He started a few after all. Potter wetting his bed for example. "Oh? You sure?"

"I'm quite sure, Draco. Keep your sick fantasies to yourself," said Harry. He turned, took two steps, then turned back and added one bit. "I happen to like GIRLS."

The Slytherin table had gone completely still.

"What the hell was that about?" asked Draco.

* break *

The circle of young witches parted to reveal the intruder in their midst.

"Peter Pettigrew?! But he's dead!"

"No, we used stunners," said Daphne Greengrass. She paused for a moment. "Well, except for Hermione. Full body bind. And Luna. Not sure what that was you hit him with."

"Tsukuyomi," said Luna. "A living nightmare spell. He spent forty-eight hours as a partially paralyzed rat surrounded by hungry dock cats."

"That explains why he's shivering and crying despite being in a full body bind," realized Daphne. "Nasty. I approve."

"Thank you, milady, you are most gracious," said Luna, miming a curtsy.

"Why is a supposedly dead Peter Pettigrew lying in a full body-bind, wetting himself, on the floor of the girls' bathroom?" asked Minerva McGonagall.

"Unregistered animagus," said Luna. "Snuck into the girls' bathroom. Naturally on seeing a rat creeping around, we threw a few spells at it."

"Ah," said McGonagall. That made a bit of sense.

"I had a vision," said Luna. "He was the Potter's secret keeper for the Fidelius. Look at his arm."

"The Dark Mark?!" exclaimed McGonagall after checking the limb in question.

Everyone nodded. Luna had a reputation as weird, but also as a Seer. It had been decided that any future knowledge they wanted dispersed would come from Luna as she was unlikely to ever fit in completely anyway.

* break *

Fred and George managed to look innocent.

Of course, they weren't innocent. They also weren't present because they knew they'd give it away and this prank was entirely too good to spoil.

They'd heard the rumors and if they just helped them along a bit - no harm after all.

Draco took one spot. Harry Potter the other.

"That's right," said Gilderoy Lockhart. "Salute. Start!"

"You've had this coming, Potter," said Draco, his wand jabbing out. "Stupefy!"

"Protego," cast Harry.

A bouquet of red roses bounced off Harry's shield.

Draco stared. Harry stared. Snape facepalmed. Gilderoy Lockhart blinked. Two Slytherins fainted. More Slytherins smirked. One Slytherin exclaimed that they'd known it all along.

"That's it," said Harry, backing away. "Not doing this. Nope nope nope. Take the express 'no' train to nopeville station. I want nothing to do with Malfoy, damnit."

"Potter concedes," said Lockhart. "Perhaps though - Mister Malfoy shouldn't declare his feelings in such a public setting."

"It's not like THAT!" protested Draco Malfoy, examining his wand to determine if it had somehow been switched. It hadn't, as far as he could tell.

"It's not good to deny your feelings like that, Malfoy," stated Daphne Greengrass, maintaining a perfectly serious expression. "There is absolutely nothing wrong with finding boys attractive."

* break *

The goblin bared teeth in something approximating a human smile. "Ah, Missus Potter. And I see you brought Missus Potter, Missus Potter, and Missus Potter. I take it that the various other Missus Potter are not attending?"

"Do you have any idea how hard it was just for us to get here on a Hogsmeade visit?" asked Cho Chang.

"That WAS why I put forth this day on the betting pool," admitted the goblin. "I take it Mister Potter isn't attending?"

"Next year at the earliest," said Cho. "He's watched more carefully."

"Understood," said the goblin. "Now, you understand our curiosity when the Account Manager determined that quite suddenly there were no less than nine Missus Potters?"

"NINE?" responded Cho.

"Nine rings for mortal witches... sorry," said Luna. Nobody understood her references anyway.

"Do you have a list?" asked Cho.

"Yes, of course we do, but we need Mister Potter here with his key in order to perform any but the most basic of services," said the clerk.

"Bugger," said Cho.

"Indeed," agreed the goblin clerk.

"So Susan was right and the magical oaths of a wedding carried over," mused Cho.

"Sort of," said the goblin. "In a matter of speaking. Mostly."

"That sounds ominous," said Luna.

"Indeed, you are quite right in that," said the goblin. "For the records show that you are married to Harry Potter. However, he is not married to you. Most curious indeed."

"That could be a problem," admitted Cho.

"Now THAT is another betting pool entirely," agreed the goblin.

"Really?" asked Cho. "What kind of odds are we talking about?"

The goblin's grin turned up a couple of notches. "Oh, there are most definitely some long odds involved."

* break *

Lucius Malfoy favored his son with a completely stony expression.

"Father?"

Lucius sighed. "Son, if you're attracted to other boys that makes it somewhat problematic to carry on the Malfoy line."

"It's NOT like THAT!"

"One must adapt, however," said Lucius who had heard quite enough about both his son's obsession over the Potter brat and denial of same. "I have heard that Potter will not accept your affections."

"NOT that at ALL!" insisted Draco.

"Slytherin is the House of the Cunning, Draco," said Lucius Malfoy. "Not the House of Unresolved Sexual Tension. From the stories around since before I was enrolled - that would be Ravenclaw."

"I am not... seriously?" asked Draco, blinking. This was the first he had heard of it.

"Oh yes," said Lucius. "Some of those books you usually see them walking around with. Read the titles. In any case, one must merely choose your wife and then one can indulge those tastes in secret. I believe your great-grandfather did the same."

"Uncle Moriarity?" asked Draco, who started twitching.

"The main thing I wanted to impress upon you, Draco," said Lucius. "Be more discrete. I am arranging an engagement for you. Astoria Greengrass. That way the Malfoy line can continue, and you can pursue your tastes with discretion."

"Seriously, why does no one believe me?" asked Draco.

* break *

"Poor Harry," said Ron Weasley, moving a rook.

"What, that he gets dragged off by five girls to go have a private study session?" asked Ernie.

"Exactly, all that time studying," said Ron, shaking his head. "It's terrible, it is. So much time wasted when he could be practicing quidditch or doing something worthwhile. Damn shame."

"Could be worse, could be like Malfoy," said Ernie.

"Yeah, I... oh gawd," said Ron, turning nearly white in stark contrast to his hair. "He's always coming round and putting me and my family down. Do you suppose...?"

Ernie didn't think so, but frankly this was entirely too good a setup to waste. "Could be. I think Malfoy's been checking out your backside a couple of times."

Ron's head was not in it for the entirety of the game, which allowed Ernie to win his first game of Wizard's Chess.

* break *

"HARRY!" called out one of the Beauxbatons contingent, her face lighting up as she waved.

Hermione took a single step back. "What do you think?"

"Entirely too likely," whispered Daphne in return.

"How's it going with Tracey, anyway?" asked Susan.

"She and Neville hit it off right away, though I hear Hannah Abbott is nosing about. Might end up a trio after Harry's example," said Daphne softly. "It appears we're trendsetters."

"That's just all so sorts of wrong," muttered Hermione.

* break *

Sirius put the mug down on the table, drained as the ale had certainly deserved his full attention while filled, and looked over at his old friend. "I have NO idea. I know I'm good, but THAT good?"

"I was rather surprised as well," agreed Remus Lupin. "If you'd done that to James, Lilly would have had your hide."

"I think I need a refill to even contemplate that," said Sirius. "I had no idea that James had made that arrangement."

"It was just... Ah, thank ye kindly, Matilda," said Sirius as his mug was exchanged for another frosty mug of the tavern's finest.

Remus Lupin waited as a good half of the brew was given Sirius' full attention. "So, this study group apparently found out you'd never been given a trial?"

"Yes," said Sirius, nodding his head. "And they wanted to find out more about You-Know-Who. Something about his tactics and strategies and real motivations and such."

"'Know thy enemy'," said Remus. "Clever girls."

"Which makes how I managed to outsmart them all and trick them into signing up to join Harry's harem all the more perplexing," said Sirius. "Not that I'm complaining. I just wish I could remember what arguments I was using when I was holed up in that cave."

"Not too surprising that your time in Azkaban left you a bit mentally shaky," said Remus. "Some people never make a full recovery after all. Just spending a five-year sentence in Azkaban has left more than a few with problems that haunt them the rest of their lives."

"I just remember bits and flashes," bemoaned Sirius. "I got my godson a harem of lovely and intelligent witches and I can't remember HOW."

"You want to try and get yourself one, don't you?" asked Remus drily.

"Not nearly that many," said Sirius. "What are people going to think when the story on that breaks but I'm all by myself without my own harem?"

"Well, glad you're doing better, but I have preparations for this year," said Remus, getting up from his seat. "Teaching Defense Against The Dark Arts this year."

"You, a teacher," said Sirius. "Well, you always were the responsible one. It just seems wrong that one of the original Marauders end up in a position of authority."

"Funny how life works out sometimes," said Remus before idly waving away some little insect that had zipped by him. "Keep in touch, Sirius."

"Take care, Moony," said Sirius, looking into his beer and still wracking his brain over that muddle of memories.

* break *

BOY-WHO-LIVED IS

BOY-WITH-HAREM!

A Rita Skeeter exclusive!

This reporter has learned that Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived, is the unwitting and unwilling boy with a harem. Even more surprising, the person responsible for this strange state-of-affairs doesn't know how this came to pass as he is still dealing with the after-effects of his time in Azkaban. That's right, it is the fault of one Sirius Black - the recently exonerated prankster from Hogwarts.

The girls in question have been getting along quite well since their first year at Hogwarts, putting aside differences from their various Houses in order to excel at their schoolwork and further their individual goals. As part of a study group that brings together different philosophies and backgrounds it has been noted by the professors that their collective expertise has grown well beyond what is normally seen from beginning students.

Yet, other than complaining about how they were tricked into this by the 'silver-tongued devil in black' and similar comments, the group seems to have come to a 'wait and see' attitude towards this development. Normally this sort of thing might be expected to see the group devolve into infighting and see the group split off with their friendships forgotten. Not so here.

As to Harry Potter's own opinion on all this, his own statement was that he didn't have anything to do with any of this and he's as confused by it all as anyone else. He confessed to one of his best friends, a Ronald Weasley, that his upbringing among the muggle family he was placed with left him with no experience in people actually being nice to him - much less being openly friendly.

For more details ferreted out by this intrepid reporter on Harry Potter's home life, see page 12.

For more on Sirius Black's recovery, see page 8.

For the Ministry's response to Harry's harem, see page 11.

*break*

The owls had brought the Daily Prophet to them.

Harry was quite aware of the glares directed towards him from a large number of the male populace of Hogwarts.

Harry was also quite aware of the glares directed towards him from a large number of the female populace of Hogwarts.

Harry was not quite so prepared for the number of thumbs pointed up that were given him.

Harry was not prepared at all for the speculative looks given him by a number of other witches who were present.

Harry didn't even want to think about Draco Malfoy yelling "It's not like that!" to one of his table-mates.

Yeah, he didn't want to think about that last one at all.

"Hermione? Is there a reason half the school is ready to start throwing hexes in my direction?" asked Harry.

"I'm sure it won't come to that," said Hermione.

"Is there a reason Professor Flitwick is laughing his hat off?" tried Harry.

"Professor Flitwick has always been far more clever and appreciative of subtle plans than certain others," remarked Daphne.

"True enough," said Hermione, raising her glass of pumpkin juice in Flitwick's direction.

Harry shook his head. He knew there were meanings in the conversation he didn't understand, but the only explanation that he'd been able to come up with so far was impossible.

* break *

Never let it be said that Minerva McGonagall couldn't stop ignoring the 400kg elephant in the room. Or the multiton metal tiger for that matter. "Miss Granger. Why exactly is there a gigantic golem in the Great Hall?"

"Runes project," said Hermione. "Had an idea on how to fix an issue with it. Oh, and the proper term is 'giant robot' and its name is 'Tiger Ace' or Tigger for short."

McGonagall looked over the giant metal tiger which was now licking one paw. "And what would be the purpose of a seven meter long metal tiger 'giant robot'?"

"Besides a project I hope will impress the examiners when we get to seventh year?" asked Hermione. "Defending the school should it become necessary. Like I said though - work in progress. I just managed to work out how to get the eyes to flash dramatically when I say something positive about how he'll make attackers beware."

(Pose/Eyeflash/Dramatic Thunder)

"Professor, you're facepalming again," pointed out Hermione.

"Leave your 'giant robot' outside in the future please, Miss Granger," said McGonagall.

"Your dramatic background lightning just struck Draco Malfoy," pointed out Daphne to Hermione. "Nice touch."

"Thank you, Daphne," said a smiling Hermione. "Thought that was appropriate as he keeps trying to flirt with Harry."

There were a few looks towards the twitching form of Draco Malfoy before Theodore Nott decided to speak up. "As Malfoy seems unable to say it - I'll just state that he would state it isn't flirting and not like that and all the usual blather he keeps bringing up."

"Even though we all KNOW the truth," said Hermione, who knew darn well that Draco wasn't actually flirting with Harry but it was just too darn good an opportunity not to use it.

author note time:

1) no, i had no plan to continue this or flesh it out. Just an odd idea and handful of scenes that had occurred to me while sitting in traffic.

2) no, Harry's harem isn't actually a harem. The term "harem" implies he controls them and this is not the case. It doesn't even imply he's going to get frisky with them. Honestly, the girls are all much older (mentally) than Harry and i suspect that would prevent things going beyond them treating him as a worryingly-heroic somewhat-exasperating younger brother figure.

3) the idea that Harry would have a harem (or more accurately is perceived to have a harem) would cause Draco to want to try and do the same and outdo Harry. That this might result in Draco getting the snot beaten or cursed out of him amuses me.

4) magical weddings and contracts might keep them together until reaching their majority and defeating Voldemort.

5) Draco does not actually fancy Harry. If he did, it wouldn't be as amusing.

6) The entirety of the "One Floo Under" are ideas that came to me, that i wrote out as a form of catharsis. If you write an anonymous review to correct my grammar, berate my smattering of Harry Potter lore, or simply to be a troll (in the dungeon!) - then i reserve the right to delete or ignore it.

7) There is no 7.

8) i wouldn't do this one even if i were back to writing, because i've explored most of the basic themes before and while i find some of them funny - i'm quite aware that some people get triggered by certain concepts. While i might find a certain purpose in bringing a bit of happy to people, frankly i'd rather do it by bringing cookies. A target for vitriol - not so much. Dealing with your issues is not the responsibility of me or any other author.


	12. Chapter 12: floo death

one floo under, chapter 12 floo death

this idea came about while reading a Master of Death thing and wondering if X would be a funny way to approach the subject.

* break *

"You can't leave him with them, Albus. They're the worst sort of muggle!"

"Don't worry, Minerva. It's all taken care of. I'll just leave this note here to explain."

The baby gurgled a bit as the two adults left.

"RIGHT," said a voice that was soft in volume but still managed to capture attention and somehow sound like the chiseling of letters into a gravestone. "SEEN THIS BEFORE. NOT IMPRESSED."

The door opened and a woman with a pinched face looked down at the baby with a curious expression, then over towards the rather larger figure.

"HELLO, PETUNIA DURSLEY NEE EVANS. MIGHT I HAVE A MOMENT OF YOUR TIME?"

Petunia shrieked and slammed the door closed.

"OH BOTHER."

"Likely just some kid playing some trick. I'll straighten him out right away," said a male voice before the door opened and a rather heavyset man came out with a cricket bat in one hand. "See here... you?!"

"VERNON DURSLEY. MIGHT ONE ASK YOU TO CUT A BIT OF THE FAT FROM YOUR DIET? YOUR ARTERIES WILL THANK YOU."

Vernon screamed and slammed the door shut.

"WELL, SO MUCH FOR THE POLITE METHOD," said the skeletal figure as he bent down towards the child. "REALLY DON'T LIKE THIS SETUP, YOU KNOW. A BIT OVERMUCH, DON'T YOU THINK?"

The child cooed and gurgled and tried to play with the bony finger in front of him.

"RIGHT YOU ARE, LAD. STIFF UPPER LIP AND ALL, FOR ALL THAT YOU'VE GOT DROOL ON IT. WELL, IF POLITENESS DIDN'T WORK - PERHAPS IT IS TIME TO BE A BIT MORE DIRECT."

With that, Death picked Harry up and went into the Dursley home. He didn't open the door, so much as the door got out of his way and then reformed behind him.

A cricket bat went through his head and bounced off the wall a few seconds later.

"VERNON DURSLEY, I AM HERE FOR YOU."

Another set of screams.

"NOT THAT WAY, YOU TWIT. THOUGH IF YOU EAT LIKE THAT AND DON'T GET PROPER EXERCISE WE'LL BE CONDUCTING BUSINESS A BIT SOONER THAN I LIKE."

Another scream.

"NICE THROW, BY THE WAY. LEARNED THAT AT SMELTINGS I CAN SEE. USEFUL LIFE SKILL."

"W-w-w-w-w-wha?"

"NOW, INTRODUCTIONS I SUPPOSE," said Death, his voice never rising in volume a bit but carrying as if it were of far more importance than simply the local laws of physics. Which it was, of course. "I AM DEATH."

"We rather gathered that," managed Vernon despite trying and failing to hide behind the kitchen table.

"HUMOR. GOOD. IN ANY CASE, A WELL-INTENTIONED IDIOT AND HIS ACCOMPLICE JUST DROPPED PETUNIA'S SISTER'S SON OFF AT YOUR FRONT DOOR WITH A LETTER OF INTRODUCTION. TERRIBLY IMPOLITE OF HIM, WASN'T IT?"

"Y-y-yes?" asked Vernon.

"WELL, BUGGER HIM. HARRY IS HERE FOR A BIT, BUT I'LL BE TAKING HIM FROM TIME TO TIME AND BRINGING HIM BACK."

"Wait, that's Lily's child?"

"AFRAID SO. LILY AND HER HUSBAND WERE KILLED BY TOM RIDDLE AND YOU ARE THE NEAREST NEXT OF KIN. HERE."

The baby's basket and letter were placed on the table. Death then reached up one sleeve and grabbed a large sack and placed it on the table where it made a heavy metallic clunk.

"What is THAT?" asked Vernon, not making a move towards either.

"THAT'S FROM ME," said Death. "PAYMENT. A BENEFIT OF BEING DEATH IS YOU KNOW WHERE EVERYONE'S BONES ARE BURIED. AND A FEW OTHER THINGS AS WELL. COLLECTED SOME OF IT OVER THE YEARS, IN CASE I EVER GOT A VACATION. SUCH AS WHEN A GANGSTER PERISHED AND FELL IN THE RIVER IN LONDON PROPER. THIS SHOULD PAY FOR BOTH HARRY'S AND YOUR OWN SON'S EDUCATION AND SUPPLIES."

"It's money?" asked Vernon.

"YES. THE BOY HAS A DESTINY, A PROPHESY, AND SO ON. SEEMS A SHAME TO NOT HAVE A BUDGET EITHER, THOUGH I ADMIT THAT'S FREQUENTLY THE CASE WITH HEROES."

"I thought they were hiding from a 'Voldemort'," protested Petunia, straightening up a bit now that it appeared her time had not come after all.

"SAME TWIT. GAVE HIMSELF THE NAME OF 'RUNNING FROM DEATH' BECAUSE HE LIKED THE ANAGRAM. SO HE HAS BAD TASTE ON TOP OF BEING A MURDEROUS TWIT WHO GAVE ME ENTIRELY TOO MUCH WORK," said Death. "I'D LIKE A VACATION ONCE IN AWHILE. REALLY, IS IT TOO MUCH TO ASK? STOP BLOODY KILLING EACH OTHER FOR A BIT AND LET ME CATCH UP ON THE BACKLOG?"

"You said you'll come back for him?" asked Vernon, coming to the same conclusion as Petunia. He was pretty sure that the boy would turn out to be a freak like those other freaks that had been around during that wedding fiasco. "Why not just take the freak child now and keep him out of normal people's business?"

"BECAUSE, VERNON DURSLEY, HE IS A CHILD. I AM DEATH. DOES CHILD-REARING SOUND LIKE ONE OF MY SKILLSETS?"

"Well, when you put it that way," allowed Vernon.

"So you'll be checking up on him then?" asked Petunia, getting the feeling that mistreating the spawn of her all-too-perfect sister might not be a good idea.

"INDEED. AND YOU'RE RIGHT - MISTREAT OR ABUSE THE CHILD AND I'LL KNOW. YOU DO NOT WANT TO MAKE ME ANGRY. YOU WOULD NOT LIKE ME WHEN I AM ANGRY."

"Eeep," said Vernon as the room turned swirling dark and cold and the faint smell of upturned soil swept through the room.

"I CAN BE MOST UNPLEASANT WHEN NECESSARY. DEATH CAN BE MERCIFUL, BUT RARELY FORGIVING. ANOTHER DEPARTMENT ENTIRELY FOR THAT."

"I'll bet," squeaked Vernon.

"AS FOR HARRY," said Death, returning the kitchen to normal, "I'LL BE TRAINING HIM."

"Y-you can't show up like that," said Petunia. "People will talk!"

"HMMM. TRUE." The six-foot-six-inch skeleton with the glowing blue eye sockets inspected his black hooded cloak for a moment, then seemed to shift and flow like water.

A woman stood there when everything stopped. A bit scandalously dressed perhaps, and pale white skin with hair the exact same shade. "HOW IS THIS? MOST PEOPLE WILL ASSUME I WORK IN A HEAVY METAL BAND. OR AT LEAST, THAT'S WHAT HAPPENED LAST TIME I DRESSED IN THIS ASPECT."

"Still standing out a bit much," suggested Petunia.

The same shifting happened, and how an impeccably dressed man with a pinstripe suit and umbrella stood there. "BETTER?"

"Actually, yes," said Petunia. "A bit European in style, but that we could pass off as one of Vernon's clients."

"VERY WELL," said Death. "I'LL BE IN TOUCH."

* break *

"DON'T," said a familiar voice.

Vernon stopped, the rolled-up newspaper in his hand a few inches from striking the child.

"THEY ARE OLD ENOUGH NOW TO MEET ME," said Death, leaning against the stove and regarding the broken dish on the floor. "I THINK YOUR SON MIGHT BENEFIT FROM THIS AS WELL."

"You're not taking my Duddy-kins!" proclaimed Petunia from where she had just gathered the broom and dustpan.

"NOT IN THAT MANNER," said Death, rolling his eyes. "I AM EVERYWHERE AND EVERYWHEN. I COULD TAKE THE TWO OF THEM TO A GALAXY SO FAR AWAY THAT THE LIGHT HASN'T ARRIVED YET FOR A WEEK OF TRAINING AND BE BACK BEFORE AFTERNOON TEA. TAKING THE TWO OF THEM OFF TO A TIBET MONASTERY FOR A BIT OF MEDITATION TRAINING WOULD DO THEM GOOD."

"Still..." said Vernon.

"VERY WELL, DUDLEY DURSLEY WILL REMAIN HERE. HARRY WILL GO AND TRAIN."

* break *

"Don't pick a fight with Harry is all I'm saying," said Dudley.

"Why not?" asked Ernest.

"Because he knows karate and stuff," said Dudley. "Seriously. Remember that kid from fifth grade?"

"That one that was picking on us third graders? Face like a cement truck?"

"That's the one," said Dudley. "Guy was picking on me. Remember how he wasn't around for a week?"

"Yeah?" asked Ernest.

"Harry stood up for me. Said he didn't like bullies." Dudley shook his head. "Harry's off-limits."

* break *

"I MIGHT HAVE EXPECTED THIS," said Death. "COULD BE WORSE."

"Hey, I saw the parallels immediately," said Harry. "Both parents killed when I was a kid. Bad guy still out there. Training."

"EXCEPT HE WAS MUCH OLDER, YOU ARE TRAINING TO BECOME A WIZARD, AND YOU BOUGHT THAT COSTUME FROM A THRIFT STORE AND REFURBISHED IT."

"Well, I figured 'Batman' was copyrighted," said Harry.

"INDEED." Death considered the costume. "IN THIS REALITY AT LEAST. YOU KNOW. I JUST MIGHT HAVE SOMETHING..."

Harry looked up at the skeletal figure.

"YOU KNOW, THIS'LL PISS OFF SOMEONE RIGHT FIERCE," said Death. "LET'S DO IT."

* break *

"Wait, you're letting MY Duddy-kins go off with DEATH?!" exclaimed Petunia Dursley in shock.

"Look at the freak boy," said Vernon, letting out a deep breath at the end and shaking his head. "The boy has got a bit of growth in him. Death is going to pop by on a regular basis whatever we say about it. As long as he keeps that horse off the lawn. And it isn't like the neighbors see anything. Damn horse sitting at the curb, gleaming white, green fire for a mane, eyes like gaping holes into oblivion, and nobody sees it or comments on it."

"'gaping holes into oblivion'?" asked Petunia.

"Thought of that myself when I was stuck in traffic Tuesday," said Vernon, thinking it sounded clever and did fairly well describe what looking into the horse's eyes was like. "In any case, if Dudley gets to learn that fancy fighting - won't that do him well when he gets to Smeltings? Can be quite a bit rough there."

"I thought boxing..." said Petunia, knowing the reputation of Smeltings Academy. Caveat Smeltonia indeed.

"Boxing is useful, and no doubt Dudley will excel when he begins," said Vernon. "A bit of training beforehand can only help."

"Still, it's unnatural!" said Petunia.

"Actually, no, I've checked. Three of the parents in the office have children in one of those fighting arts things," said Vernon. "It's something they start going on and bragging about if you give them half a chance."

"Oh," said Petunia Dursley, thinking it all sounded quite unnatural and un-British but if it was something that ended up with child-bragging rights that made it quite a bit more respectable. "Still unnatural."

"ACTUALLY," said a very familiar voice. Back in the female form and looking like she'd just been at the kind of party that the Dursleys would never get invited to, much less attend. "DEATH IS COMPLETELY NATURAL. THERE ARE PEOPLE WHO TRY TO CHEAT DEATH, AND THAT ITSELF IS PRETTY UNNATURAL. ALSO PRETTY MUCH DOOMED TO FAILURE. NICE HANG TIME ON THAT JUMP, BY THE WAY."

"Grble," said Vernon, realizing he was clinging to the wall like some overweight Spiderman and letting go.

"ACTUALLY," said another voice, "I HAVE A SUGGESTION."

"What?!" squeaked Vernon as something else registered on his awareness. "Another..."

"I LEFT MY HORSE AT THE CURB," said the Other. "DEATH. LOOKING GOOD FOR YOUR AGE."

"LIKE YOU ARE ONE TO TALK," responded Death, voice never changing. "VERNON AND PETUNIA DURSLEY, MY COLLEAGUE - LIFE."

"Would you mind just staying in one shape?" pleaded Vernon Dursley.

"THAT IS ITSELF UNNATURAL. LIFE IS EVER-CHANGING, SHIFTING, GROWING," pointed out Death.

"I'm about to throw up," pointed out Vernon, trying not to look at Life and still getting quite nauseous.

"VERY WELL," said Life, with an air of long-suffering thrown in. The form stabilized finally on that of a well-endowed woman with green hair.

"WHY ARE YOU HERE, LIFE? I AM ALREADY INVOLVED DUE TO THE HALLOWS." Death leaned against the wall and raised an eyebrow. One of the reasons to use this form was that one could roll one's eyes or smirk or otherwise use expressions that were damn difficult on a skull.

"I MANIFESTED AS AN AVATAR SO THAT I MIGHT CONVERSE WITH THE FUNDAMENTALS AND OTHER ASPECTS," said Life. "I HAD AN IDEA."

"THAT DOES NOT BODE WELL," said Death, who had seen a few things in his/her time. "YOU REMEMBER THE LAST TIME."

"A MINOR MISCALCULATION," countered Life.

"THREE ENTIRE SPECIES WENT EXTINCT, OVER SEVEN HUNDRED BILLION DEAD," said Death. "IF I WAS NOT OMNIPRESENT, I'D STILL BE DEALING WITH THE BACKLOG."

"MY FINGER SLIPPED," said Life.

"Se-seven?" asked Vernon, following the conversation. He couldn't even imagine one billion of much of anything.

"SO, WHAT IS THIS IDEA THAT YOU WENT ROUND TO THE OTHER ASPECTS OF ETERNITY, AND WHY ARE WE HAVING THIS CONVERSATION AMONGST MORTALS?" asked Death, inspecting her nails as she spoke. If Death was going to wear a form, might as well get mannerisms in there. No point in doing a job halfway.

"BECAUSE, THERE." Life reached out and twisted something that Vernon Dursley could swear he briefly almost saw.

"YOU MANIPULATED DNA?" asked Death.

"THE WIZARDS OF THIS WORLD HAVE A GENE FOR MAGIC," said Life. "IN SQUIBS, THE GENE IS COUNTERED BY A SECOND GENE. SO SQUIBS HAVE MAGIC BUT CANNOT ACCESS IT IN THE NORMAL MANNER. A BIT OF A WASTE. MAGIC CONCURS."

"MAGIC WOULD," said Death in a voice as dry as bones in a desert.

"SO DUDLEY DURSLEY IS NOW A SQUIB," said Life.

"WHAT?!" screeched Petunia.

"SO IS HIS MOTHER," said Life.

"WHAT?!" screeched Petunia.

"QUIET, DEAR. THE ADULTS ARE TALKING," said Life. "ALL THAT MEANS IS THAT YOU CAN NOW SEE THINGS THAT ONLY MAGICALS CAN, ANTI-MUGGLE WARDS ARE ONLY PARTIALLY EFFECTIVE, AND MAGICAL DETECTION METHODS REVEAL YOUR STATUS. REALLY, IT WAS ONLY A TINY LITTLE CHANGE THERE - YOU BOTH ALREADY HAD THE GENETICS FOR MAGIC. SCANNING THE TIMELINE SHOWS THERE WAS ACTUALLY A MORE THAN FIFTY PERCENT CHANCE THAT DUDLEY'S CHILDREN WOULD HAVE BEEN WIZARDLY TYPES."

"SO WHAT DID YOU MAKE DIFFERENT ABOUT SQUIBS?" asked Death. It was really all the same to him, but allowed it might be a bit more interesting.

"JUST THAT. COULDN'T GET TIME TO RETROACTIVE ANYTHING. DAMN SPOILSPORT," said Life.

"TIME DISLIKES A LOT OF THINGS. THOUGH SHE IS RATHER FOND OF THAT BRITISH TELEVISION PROGRAM. TIME IS WEIRD LIKE THAT," responded Death.

"WELL, WHATEVER," said Life, waving off the point. "WHAT'S IMPORTANT IS THE SCHOOL."

"SCHOOL?" asked Death, thinking she didn't like the sound of this.

"YES, AN ALTERNATIVE SCHOOL FOR MAGIC. THE ONES AVAILABLE ARE NO FUN AT ALL."

Death turned to Vernon Dursley. "IS IT JUST ME, OR DOES THIS SOUND LIKE A TERRIBLE IDEA IN THE MAKING?"

* break *

"Because I'm not going to get in a bloody argument with DEATH and LIFE and whatever else eternal truth is going to show up on our doorstep," said Vernon Dursley, who was a stupid hidebound prejudiced man - but there were degrees of stupid and he wasn't THAT completely stupid.

Petunia Dursley frowned, her pinched face looking especially pinched when she did that. Still, she could see the point sort of. She might get into a yelling match with a wizard, who could potentially turn her into a newt. Seeing what a pissed off avatar of Life itself could do to her? Her imagination might be a bit limited but her survival instinct was saying "let's not go there" in no uncertain terms.

"So, the boy is going off to school," said Vernon Dursley, smiling for the first time. "No cost to us. No having to drop him off or anything. A few more months to set everything up and then he's off to Atlan-piss or whatever it is."

"It'll be so much nicer with him gone," admitted Petunia.

* break *

Hermione Granger stared at the figure that apparently her parents couldn't quite properly see. They could see the envelope floating in midair from the comments though.

"The shadows when a car goes by," said her father.

Hermione glanced down as a car went by, noticing the shadows were exactly what one would expect from the horseman in front of her. Of course, if SHE could see them and her parents could NOT - how could there be shadows that would reflect what she saw as opposed to them?

"Light has different frequencies, is both a particle and a wave, and can be quite weird when situations permit."  
The voice was soft but carried quite well, as if the sounds of everyday life around it quieted in fear or respect of those syllables.

"I heard that," squeaked her father.

The form seemed to solidify to Hermione's sight, and from the reactions of her parents - the individual involved was now fully visible to them as well.

"This may be better. Take the letter, Hermione Jean Granger. If you agree to come to this school, merely be touching the letter at the time and date indicated. If you refuse, simply do not. If you choose not to come, do not expect the offer to ever be extended again. You very likely will be approached by another school after you reach eleven years of age."

"Why can we see you now?" asked Hermione's mother. "When we couldn't earlier?"

"I chose to let you see me, so that you can help decide when the time comes," said the figure.

"Why do you look like..." Hermione's father made a gesture.

"Because I am he," said the figure. "I lived and died in England, but I'll be teaching at the Atlantis School For Talented Children until a living instructor is found for my classes. I am, in fact, the ghost of Edmund Halley and will be teaching mathematics and astronomy. I'm just letting some of the students know ahead of time before I get back to catching up on the subjects since my death."

"O-of course," said Hermione's father.

"Pardon, but I must visit three more homes tonight," said Halley, who then rode his horse up into the sky and away from the little home.

* break *

Nine years old was a bit young to start schooling abroad, according to some.

Some of those were already in Hogwarts or other schools. Some were disinclined to go off to a new school no matter who was teaching what. On learning that there were "muggle subjects" like English and Mathematics and Physics being taught - still others tore up the letters right there. Some dismissed the whole thing as a prank.

The Prophet got wind of it, pronounced it a prank and in very poor taste, and that was it as far as the majority of England was concerned.

* break *

Hermione Jean Granger, age nine, nodded to her parents as the clock ticked away. If this WAS an elaborate prank, for all that they didn't read anything magical, then that was one thing. On the other hand, if the letter was accurate - and this was their sole chance to learn more - then Hermione had a chance to get an education and not have to worry about somehow having all the books in the library abruptly burying her the way they had two years previously. Or any of the other little events that nobody had been able to explain.  
At exactly eleven-o-clock on a Saturday, Hermione Jean Granger was clutching a letter in one hand in her home's kitchen. At one minute past, she erupted in glowing blue light and vanished.

She blinked once, twice, and then looked around. A Grecian ampitheatre was her first impression.

"First years through the yellow archway. Second years through the green. Third years through the orange one. Don't worry about the colors, they don't mean anything other than being convenient," said a Size Huge man who looked to be made of granite.

"Excuse me, not meaning to be impolite, but what ARE you?" asked an older student in black robes. Which caused Hermione to wonder if perhaps she should have worn something other than street clothes though the letter didn't actually list any uniform requirements.

"I'm a Titan, lad," said the figure, slapping himself on the chest. "Best to be polite to nonhumans here. We've quite an eclectic staff. Now off with you. We have to sort everyone into houses because all the magical schools are set up that way and we didn't have a particular reason to change that."

Hermione followed a crowd through the yellow archway, somewhat relieved that others were also wearing street clothes.

There was a brief moment of feeling things shift around her as she went through the archway, and then they were in a large cafeteria. Even though there were only around fifty students, it still took some time for everyone to take a seat.

"Right," said a ghostly figure approaching the stage in front. "Here now. We've got a little aptitude test set up to determine where your skills and ambitions may lie. It looks dangerous but you're not in danger of anything bu failing. During your stay here in Atlantis, you can retest once per year and see if you fit another House. Will the overseer for each House stand and introduce yourself and state what your House's specialty is when I call it? Perseus?"

A man already seated stood up. "Perseus of Perseus House. The House of Heroes. Courage, valor, combat skills. Swords and wands and being able to battle for your beliefs. We have an excellent duelling range and gymnasium, and are currently building a range for further honing of your skills. If you dream of being in Law Enforcement, bodyguard, or adventurer - we're your House."

"House Paracelsus," said the apparent Headmaster.

"House Paracelsus," said a woman, standing up. She was quite solid though, so Hermione doubted she was a ghost. Dark bronzed skin and black hair, so some ethnicity she wasn't quite familiar with? "Mary Gist, Paracelsus is the House Of Healers. Alchemy, Healing Magic, some Cherokee rituals deemed sufficient for outsiders to use, potion work mainly. We have a library and set of labs set up, with the greenhouses still under construction."

"House Thales," said a man with wild hair, standing up. "John Walker. Do you have a thirst for knowledge? Facts over philosophy? Then Thales might be suitable for you. Ours is the largest library and largest research facility, with plans to expand after finding sufficient people to supervise. Don't come to House Thales if you want to go charging at windmills or just learn about curing someone's ouchies. No coddling will go on in MY house, also no bullying or pranks. You come to House Thales to LEARN - we are not a social club."

"Yes," said the ghostly speaker at the main podium. "Also don't go to Thales for etiquette or diplomacy. House Hephaestus?"

What got up next was clearly nonhuman, apparently made entirely of metal and crystal. "House Hephaestus. Name: Galatea. Yes. THAT Galatea, I have been upgraded several times. No, Galatea wasn't my original name but I took a fancy to it. Unlike the others, I am not a professor here - I am strictly the Head of House. Eventually all House Heads will be dedicated employees, unlike some of the other schools. Hephaestus House is dedicated to making things. Crafting of every type, including using materials obtained from the non-magical end of things. Whereas Paracelsus is dedicated to healing and Thales to raw knowledge, my House is dedicated to function and utility. You can make it pretty, but it sure as hell needs to WORK."

"So," said the ghostly Headmaster as the construct sat down. "In short - Perseus for the would-be heroes, Paracelsus for the healers who patch up the heroes, Thales for the studious, and Hephaestus for the industrious. Get a meal in, at the end of which we'll be sending you into the dungeon for your sorting."

Hermione stared as someone offered the comment everyone was thinking.

"Did he just say dungeon?"

* break *

"Hermione Granger."

Hermione was QUITE nervous about things so far. Each person called had reappeared almost immediately but had clearly gone through SOMETHING. Each had emerged wearing a badge that declared their new House, and each was alive and not missing limbs or anything - but still it appeared that each had been quite thoroughly tested in some manner.

Clarence Clearwater's clothing had been smouldering.  
Derrick Franks had emerged with a big grin, a SWORD clutched in one hand, and looking quite battered.  
Aaron Austin had merely looked puzzled.  
Frodo Canticle had been shaking and was nursing a wounded hand.  
Susan Gallus had been holding a spear and looking quite ready to ram it into someone.

Now it was her turn and she was quite hesitant but stepped through the arch anyway.

There was a moment of feeling shifted about before she was standing in a room with three exits. A blue door, a green door, and a red door.

Hermione considered what she'd overheard from those who had gone before. Red was combat in each case. If she wanted to fight something, that was the route. Things had differed wildly but the beginnings of a pattern had emerged. Susan had faced skeletons that came to life, holding spears and shields and badmouthing her choice of clothing and hairstyle. Clarence had faced dog-like creatures that breathed flames. Derrick had fought his way through a nest of serpents who had attacked him with various criticisms and venomous comments until he got closer and then just flat out attacked him.

According to Aaron, he'd gone with the green and been faced with a floor puzzle involving teleporting tiles and a bottomless pit.

Frodo had faced a mirror and gotten into a tussle over a ring and some foul little creature who'd challenged him to riddles.

Hermione opened the green door and looked through the opening. There was one of those picture-puzzles composed of sliding tiles against the wall. "That's it?"

Hermione sagged with relief. "That's easy."

"Difficulty Level raised to Hard," said a voice from everywhere at once.

Hermione froze, raising her head to look at the tile puzzle again. It HAD been nine pieces of tile in a frame. It was now nineteen pieces of tile. "Oh."

Hermione closed the green door, went to the blue door, and slowly opened it to peek beyond it.

"You coming in or not? We don't have all day you know."

There was a minotaur in a gladiator costume, a sort-of-penguin, and a goblin wearing a nurse's uniform. They were apparently playing poker. The door closed behind her before she realized she'd stepped into the room out of immediate obedience to an apparent authority figure.

"Kinda surprised," said the goblin, glancing up at her. "You look more the studious type to me."

"Human types all mostly look alike to me," grumbled the minotaur. "Ah well."

"I work with humans a bit more than you," said the goblin. "This one looks about ready to wet herself."

"Surprised myself," said the whatever-it-was in the penguin costume. "She reset the difficulty to Hard of her own free will. Doesn't look that tough to me."

The minotaur snorted. "Wizard ain't she? They can be tougher than they look. I'll grab me axe."

"Eep," said the nine year old girl, who most definitely did not think she was up to fighting a minotaur.

"So," said the minotaur, lifting up a guitar. "I challenge thee! Dig this!"

Hermione blinked as the minotaur began shredding the guitar, and not in the fashion of wood chips and broken strings.

"HAH!" said the minotaur. "Beat that, child!"

Silence.

The goblin got up and waved a hand in front of Hermione's face. "Did you break her?"

"W-w-w-w-WHAT?!" managed Hermione.

"Come on, kid, grab an instrument," said the goblin, pointing at a box. "You gonna even try?"

Hermione looked at the musical instruments in the box, then back at the three. "WHAT?!"

* break *

"So, House Perseus huh?" asked one of her neighbors. "What weapon did you use?"

"Bagpipes," mumbled Hermione.

"Whoa, you must be a lot more badass than you look," said the neighbor. "I used a sword. Dallas Thorne, from Texas. I coulda gone to Ilvermorny but that's two years off and I was anxious to get outta home and start practicing magic."

"'Sword'?" asked Hermione, still a bit in shock. Well, maybe more than just 'a bit' actually.

"Yeah, wooden one, but still," said Dallas. "Had some problem. Never even heard of 'prinnies' before - didn't realize they blew up if you threw 'em either."

"Right," mumbled Hermione.

"So, we're basically the jocks of the magic world," said Dallas, munching on one of his fries. "Thales is the nerds. Paracelsus is healers and fixers, while Heph is the greasers and tech-heads."

Hermione's head thumped on the table.

"So, did you check your schedule?" asked Dallas. "Looks like PE first thing."

Hermione's head came up slightly, then thunked down again.

"Dallas and Hermione, right?" asked the someone on Hermione's other side. "Denise Richards. Pungo in Virginia, magical community from way back."

"Lee Jefferson, call me 'Lee' - Jamaica."

"You don't sound Jamaican."

"Not everyone likes or does the accent," said Lee. "If I get really pissed or something though - it comes out."

"Hermione? Why are you beating your head against the table?"

* break *"  
"Very well, all of you will be choosing a weapon to specialize in."

"Conner. A classic choice - swords are always appropriate."

"Lee. Also a good choice. The spear is a versatile weapon for a number of environments."

"Dallas. Firearms are normally not a good choice for heroes, being restricted in a number of areas and thought of poorly within the wizarding community abroad. On the other hand, if you're facing a monster at a distance - they come in DAMN handy."

"Denise - bows are also good for monster hunting, but you might want to specialize in a melee weapon. You too, Dallas. Neither bows nor guns are usually allowed in duels and the like. There'll be a time for ranged weapon training."

"Hermione... you haven't chosen a weapon?"

"Well, you see, I..."

"EXCELLENT," said the instructor. "I was wondering if anyone was going to go that route. Brilliant choice. Everyone - you see what Miss Granger is trying to point out is that the drawback of a weapon is that it can be taken away from you and she wants to specialize in UNARMED combat."

"Eh?"

"Cool," said Dallas, nudging the girl. "Hidden depths, eh?"

"EH?"

"What style do you want to learn, Miss Granger? Gentle Fist? Turtle? Wild Tiger? Mystic Palm?"

"Ah, 'Mystic'?"

"Mystic Palm it is. We've got an individual instructor for you as it's quite intensive."

"EH?!"

"Lopsy, take Miss Granger to where she'll be training. The rest of you, Miss Granger has set the bar high as she will be training much harder than you lot. If she survives, we'll certainly be watching how high she climbs."

"WHAT?!"

* break *

There was a soft thud.

Lee checked the time. "Eight o'clock, right on time."

Denise picked her house-mate off the floor and partially supported her as they made their way towards the bunks. "Dang girl, you putting on weight."

"Urg," said Hermione.

"Don't mention it," said Denise cheerfully. "I know it's all muscle on you, and you're gonna be a knockout when you gets older."

"Uhn," managed Hermione.

"Don't forget there's a test in two months," said Denise. "I hear it's a practical."

"Uhn."

"Girl of few words, I can respect that," said Denise. "Must say, first met you - thought you was a bookworm."

Hermione whimpered.

"Oh, and someone was asking about you. Guy over in Hephaestus. Harry Potter."

Hermione slowly turned a mostly-unfocused look towards her dorm-mate.

"Does a lot of runework," said Denise. "Has a knack for it I understand. Guy's got a scar that looks like 'sowilo' on his forehead so I can understand that kinda sorta."

* break *

Harry Potter had always found something satisfying in working with his hands. Once he was no longer cooking for a family that despised him, he actually enjoyed just puttering around the kitchen.

The common room of Hephaestus House had a kitchen. Because Hephaestus House. Because they were all about MAKING stuff.

Runes, Enchanting, Charms, Spell Creation, Arithmancy - these were just the obvious magical studies. There were also studies on Metallurgy, Materials Science, Chemistry, Transfiguration, and other things. Hephaestus shared two classes with Perseus (English and Charms), another two with Thales (World History and Physical Education), and one with Paracelsus (Wizarding Society).

Harry had seen the usually exhausted-looking girl who'd come partially-alive in Charms and managed to do well in English despite frequently falling asleep. She had even answered questions while asleep!

Harry had also been listening about how this young and fragile-looking girl was apparently dedicated to being a hero to the extent that she was going to special extra classes to learn some super-secret martial arts.

So, she might look like a young waif with bushy hair and an overbite - but she was some badass-in-training.

"You wanted to see me?" asked the girl in question when the arranged meeting finally took place in the Hephaestus Common Room.

"Yeah, that practical we have in another month," said Harry Potter, flipping a crepe into the air and then sliding it onto a plate. "You know we're gonna be set up in teams, right?"

Hermione blinked. "What?"

"Teams?" asked Harry.

"Well, uhm, of course," said Hermione, trying to cover that she'd missed that.

"Right, so it's inter-House. Dungeon crawl from the sound of it," said Harry.

"A 'dungeon crawl'?" asked Hermione.

"So busy training you missed that?" asked Harry, putting some chocolate filling into the crepe and handing the treat off to her.

"Ah, yes?" answered Hermione.

"Anyway, if you join up, I worked on these," said Harry, holding up some gloves. "Had to guess on your size. Dragonhide outer layer, calfskin interior. Should protect your hands when you punch out trolls and the like."

"...right," said Hermione, taking them and blushing a bit as she hadn't ever gotten a present from a boy before.

"Also this," said Harry, holding up something that looked almost like a single chopstick with a tassel. "Did the runework on that myself. Got a piercing charm on the tip, a runeset to control your hair a bit, and a line of silver inset there to the side. Just in case of werewolves or anything."

"'control my hair'?" asked Hermione.

"Well, you being a get-in and melee type, figured it'd be handy. The commands are 'braid' or 'bun' since those are styles I've seen some of the warrior-types use them. Tap it with your wand to activate it."

* break *

Hermione stared in the mirror. There was her unmanageable unruly out-of-control hair. Said hair wrapped up in a tight bun except for two errant curly strands.

"Something left for the 'mark two' - I hear that's how those guys operate," said Denise appreciatively.

"We're NINE," protested Hermione.

"Not too early to start thinking about the future," said Denise. "And you know those Hephaestus guys have to be good with their hands."

"I'm more interested in this 'practical exam' right now. What have YOU heard?" asked Hermione.

"Hmmm. Teams of four. Inter-house groups are okay, but actually I think we're supposed to go with groups across the House system - they just never come out and say it." Denise pondered a bit. "Of course, some of us are ignoring that and going with a mostly one-House group. I'm already going with Lee and Dallas and Conner. Conner's gonna tank, Lee and Dallas will be getting into the melee, and I'll used ranged weaponry. Mainly that shortbow I've got. Hey, think you can get your boyfriend to toss some runes on it?"

"We've talked ONCE and I think he was just wanting a fighter for his test," protested Hermione.

* break *

"The Mystic Palm is a specialized martial arts style that uses magic as part of its attacks and defenses," said Ironwood, the sensei she'd drawn. "You've gotten the basics of the Reinforce spell down. That's no big deal though as EVERYONE will be using it on their weapons that has such. In weapons it serves to make the weapon hit harder or cut better - but it also serves a protection against transfiguration or destruction magic directed against the weapon. Otherwise some wizard would just turn all your weapons into feathers and then crush you. It's trickier with the version you're using because what you're reinforcing is your own body."

Hermione finished gasping for breath and slowly pulled herself upright.

"By flowing the magic within you, you can make yourself as hard as steel or fast or both," said Ironwood. "Ooooh. Are those new gloves? Let your sensei see them."

Ironwood took the gloves and inspected them. "Beginner's work, but decent quality. Dragonskin leather - reinforced at all the right spots too. Probably last you a year and then you'll need to get the next size up. Oh-hoh! What's this!"

"Eh?" asked Hermione.

"A throwing dart sealed in the back of the hand. A secret weapon is usually a good thing to have," said Ironwood. "Nice choice. Planning for the practical next month?"

"Uh, yes, sensei," said Hermione.

"Good. Plans may not survive the battle, but going in without a plan is planning to fail," said Ironwood. Whose name was Horatio Ironwood, but pretty much insisted on being called either Ironwood or Professor during working hours.

"But..."

"No. Though I do commend who figured out that part of the designs of the practical exams was inter-House unity."

"What about..."

"No. You might consider telling Mister Potter enough about your martial arts training to incorporate that in the next design. Retracting claws are fairly useless unless you're opening packages or something."

"I... claws?" asked Hermione.

"Oh and the hairstick is a nice choice. See he's put some practical styles on there, good."

"Wait. How did you know that Harry Potter was the one..." Hermione drew the hairstick and examined it. Of course her hair, suddenly free of the magic holding it in place, immediately poofed out and covered her face.

"Oh, this is a maker's rune here," said Ironwood, pointing to a set of markings at the velcro wrist strap. "Uses the Korean lettering for a phonetic version of 'Potter' and he's the only Potter here taking advanced runework. Also knows some martial arts out of Tibet I think - you might spar with him sometime."

"You DO realize that I hate exercise, right?"

"That just means you haven't had enough of it," answered Ironwood. He gestured and the two of them appeared on a moonlit forest path.

"I have a bad feeling about this," commented Hermione.

"Good instincts," said Ironwood. "Watch out for the wolves."

"What..." Hermione didn't finish that question as she started running.

The wolves were on her heels a moment later.

Ironwood sighed as Hermione passed him a moment later. "You should have met my grandfather. He would have tied raw meat to me, then had me dragging a tractor tire by a chain before releasing any wolves. You kids have it SO easy nowadays."

"The kid smells exhausted," said one of the wolves, tarrying a bit.

"Meh," said Ironwood. "So I'm an old softie. She's a wizard, just wait till she figures out how to protect herself better. I'll have to hire trolls or something."

* break *

"Okay," said Harry, sitting down across from Hermione. "I've got..."

Hermione's head thumped down into her baked potato.

Harry paused a moment before reaching over, lifting the girl's head up, and moving the plate to the side before letting her head back down.

"Yeah, pretty much exhausted," said Denise. "She's got too much pride in her academics to slack, and now she just wants to prove herself in front of Old Man Ironwood."

"Wow," said Harry. "You know if she had any problems with the hairstick or the gloves?"

"Not that she's mentioned," said Denise. "Why?"

"Making a pair of armored bracers," said Harry. "Ran across some neat rune schema."

"Ah, she'll appreciate that," said Denise. "How's your team coming?"

"If she isn't too worn out, there's Hermione from Perseus," said Harry, "me from Hephaestus. Su Li from Thales. Susan Abbott from Paracelsus."

"One from each?" asked Denise.

"What about you?" asked Harry.

"All Perseus team. If we get combat, we'll have a mix of ranged and in-close combat plus spellcasting." Denise grinned. "Don't forget - we've got these training wands for a reason."

"Yeah, but all the interesting spells are for more advanced classes and they're talking about making Atlantis a Prep School because they're having trouble with the international accredation," said Harry.

"Yeah, that'll suck if it happens," said Denise. "Ilvermorny is okay, but it doesn't have all these options."

* break *

Harry bowed towards his opponent, never taking his eyes off her.

Hermione bowed back.

"Begin!"

Harry was under no preconceptions here regarding his opponent - well at least he wasn't going to take her lightly for being smaller and thinner and of the female persuasion. Master Gong back in Shangri-La had been quite petite compared to many of the other instructors there and had been described as a WHITE HOT BALL OF TERROR AND VIOLENCE by just about everyone.

Hermione didn't have the benefits of the enchantments he'd made for her, stating that it was hardly fair to use them in a battle against the person who'd made them for her in the first place. Or she'd privately decided he'd have a way of using them against her and just hadn't mentioned that consideration aloud.

Whatever the case, he quickly discovered that if you tried blocking her strikes - your entire arm went numb and sort of useless.

"Harry Potter has been disabled. Back to your sides."

As soon as he could move again, they went to round two. Harry quickly began deflecting attacks instead of trying to block.

The differences in styles were apparent from the beginning. Harry's movements were more angular, Hermione's more circular.

"You are stronger than you look," said Hermione after they'd exchanged strikes and then mutually retreated.

"You are, as well," responded Harry. "Training seals?"

Hermione nodded. "Level three. You?"

"Level two," responded Harry. "An hour each day. Can't imagine even trying level three yet."

"Level three for an hour, level one for the rest of the day," said Hermione.

"Ah, I see," said Harry with a nod.

In a flash, Hermione had charged Harry, who went airborne immediately.

"What? FLIGHT?" asked Hermione, who did not have a ranged attack handy.

Harry hung in the air, slowing drifting with the air current. "Haven't managed flight actually. Decreased force of gravity allows me to float - that's it. Hoping to get flight down by the end of the year though."

"If you can manage that as an enchant, I want it. 'Not all fights can be won, always have an escape route.'"

Harry smirked back. "Sounds like something I've heard a few sensei say."

"Well then," said Hermione, drawing her training wand.

"I thought this was martial arts only," protested Harry.

"Nobody stated that rule," pointed out the referee.

"Oh bugger," said Harry, pulling out an odd gun with what looked like a radar dish at the front end.

"Nobody said anything about weapons," protested Hermione.

"Nobody stated that rule," pointed out the referee.

"Oh bugger," said Hermione.

(VORP!) went the raygun.

(DODGE!) went Hermione.

(VORP!) went the raygun again.

"Oh this isn't good," protested the four-inch-tall Hermione. "My voice? I sound like a chipmunk!"

"I was trying to come up with a nonlethal attack to use, was aiming for a stun blast, somehow ended up with a shrink ray," explained Harry.

Hermione crossed her arms and glared up at the floating Harry. "How long does it last?"

"About an hour," said Harry.

"Hmph. Well, I've got to revise for next week's test. I'm counting on you to do the right thing here, Potter!"

"Wait. What?" asked Harry.

"Take responsibility for yourself, Harry Potter!" said Hermione. "You put me in this condition. Why are you snickering like that, Denise?"

"Uhm," said Harry.

"I don't get it," said Hermione, still in convenient pocket size. "Anyway, Potter. You better take care of me. Stop laughing, Denise!"

"Uhm, right," said Harry, thinking that all sounded a bit strange but not really wanting to analyze it.

"Hmph," hmphed Hermione. Still, she realized she wasn't helpless. If she could reach someone, she could use her fighting techniques to disable them no matter what size she was. Also, she still had her training wand.

* break *

"Okay," said Harry. "One of those weird puzzles. Need to get across in one trip. Two of us. As soon as we step off a panel, it vanishes."

"Sorry, if I hadn't tripped," said Susan Abbott, finishing her statement by waving at a swath of tiles that were currently not there.

"You have your shrink ray?" asked Hermione.

"What?" asked Harry.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Your shrink ray. You shrink me and Su down, we get in those pouches on your ammo belt. You then jump across. Obvious really."

"Except that leaves both of you shrunk for an hour," pointed out Harry.

Hermione was silent for a moment. "Got any rocket boots?"

"Unfortunately, my experiment with that ended rather explosively," hesitantly answered Harry.

"Flight belt?" asked Hermione.

"Working on it, still has problems," said Harry. "And it'll be a ring."

"You shouldn't make it a ring, too obvious. Everyone expects a magic ring," said Hermione. "Then someone will hit it with a Finite."

* Much much much later *

"So," said Ernie MacMillan. "Beauxbatons used a carriage drawn by pegasi. Durmstrang used a sailing ship that popped up out of the Black Lake. What do you suppose Atlantis will use?"

Cedric blinked. "You think they'll use something flashy? That school seems to be more practical than that."

"Nah," said Ernie. "These other schools coulda just used a portkey. Woulda been cheaper too. They got to do flashy. Especially 'cause they're trying to establish themselves as a valid school here."

"Point," said Cedric, spotting something.

A blue box appeared with a grind-thump noise. None of the wizards or witches were terribly surprised to find the interior was bigger than the outside. What DID surprise them were all the muggleborns or muggle-raised that cheered when the thing appeared. And why exactly did it say "Police" on the outside?

"So, which do you think will be next?" asked Ernie. He started counting them off on his fingers as he named the schools. "Hogwarts, Beauxbatons, Durmstrang, Atlantis - that leaves Ilvermorny and Oogadoo."

"That's 'Uagadou'," corrected Cedric.

"Uggaduuo," tried Ernie.

"Go with the Colonies and Africa," suggested Cedric.

"The Uagadou are already here," said Luna Lovegood, pointing.

"Where?" asked Ernie.

"Ah, the birds," said Cedric after looking himself. "Good eye."

"What are you talking about?" asked Ernie.

"The Uagadou are known for their skill in self-transfiguration and wandless magic," said Cedric. "If these are supposed to be among the best - of course they'd all be animagi."

"What?" asked Ernie.

"Wizards who can take an animal form," said Cedric.

"You seem to know a lot about them," noted Luna.

"Once I found they were coming, I read up a bit on the various schools," said Cedric.

"Then that leaves Ilvermorny," said Ernie as the various birds began transforming into dark-skinned wizards and walking forward.

"I expect they'll be flashy," said Cedric. "Hollywood."

"Yeah," said Ernie.

"Like that," said Cedric.

"A gemstone javelin slamming into the earth, unfolding into a circular gateway, which has various runes lighting up in some sort of countdown, which then goes whoosh with a burst of energy?" Ernie nodded after the thing had run its course. "Yeah. Way too Hollywood."

"A marching band?" asked Cedric as the band came marching out to form two lines framing the circle. "Tacky."

"I dunno. That girl with the trombone is rather cute," said Ernie.

"The blonde one or the brunette?" asked Luna.

"Shouldn't you be over with the Ravenclaws?" asked Ernie.

* break *

The goblet roared up in flames and spat out a name.

"From Beauxbatons: Fleur Delacour!"

"From Durmstrang: Viktor Krum!"

"Representing Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry! Cedric Diggory!"

"From Uagadou: George Bokamoso!"

"Ilvermorny's champion - Hecate Jones."

"Atlantis will be represented by... this can't be right. He's not old enough."

"Who?"

"Says Harry Potter, but he's not even here. Didn't come along on the trip because he's doing some work with advanced runes."

"Can't be THAT 'Harry Potter' can it?"

"This looks like it was ripped off the front of an envelope and someone just scribbled the name of the school down underneath. That can't be considered valid, right?"

* break *

Harry discovered one thing right off. He did not like being a celebrity. He might have sort have liked it, if all the attention he'd ever gotten was negative and being thrown in a cupboard. With him having friends and a place to be in the world like he had found - it was rather jarring when he'd realized that all the attention was for surviving and stopping a war at one year of age. So he was the Boy-Who-Lived and the Atlantis Champion.

The ones who had come with the intention of being picked had been pretty pissed off too. Then they'd gotten together in some sort of school solidarity thing.

The main thing he found he didn't like about the whole celebrity thing was that people were not seeing him. Back at school, he'd been a good student and a quick study and runes just seemed to come naturally to him. Death, on one of his infrequent visits, had said that it was only natural as he had a rune stuck on his forehead. Harry wasn't entirely sure that the Incarnation of Death hadn't done something there. In any case - back at school if he had any fame to his name it was because of that skill in runes and enchanting. His memory might not be as good as Hermione's - but he was at least as clever when he had a goal to work towards.

He looked over the older Champions.

Fleur Delacour, blonde and pretty, but kept flashing something that caused his Charm Bracelet to tingle a bit. Maybe some kind of accidental magic or something? Seemed a bit aloof and, well, snooty. Though she was shivering a bit too.

Cedric Diggory was a tall, square-jawed, fellow. Preoccupied with something or other. Probably had some warming charm on his clothing, cause this castle was DAMN drafty.

Viktor Krum was some sort of quidditch star. Quidditch wasn't really that big a deal back at Harry's school, being as they were located under thousands of feet of water and all. Have to talk to the guy at some point - sounded like a cool game even if some of the rules sounded kind of gonzo.

George Bokamoso was a dark and serious fellow who had his back to one wall and was studying each of them with the sort of unblinking look that made you feel as if he were looking THROUGH you.

Which brought him to the petite Eurasian-looking girl named Hecate Jones.

"Potter! Haven't seen you since first year. Looking well," said Hecate, holding out one hand.

"Miss Jones. I'm afraid I don't remember..." began Harry, shaking her hand anyway.

"We were taking Basic Potioning 101 together, I was at the station behind you," said Hecate.

"The one who melted the sink?" asked Harry.

"Ah, yeah," agreed Hecate. "I transferred out at the end of the year for home schooling and quidditch. Hard to believe that quidditch is that important, but apparently it is."

"Really? I'll have to try and see a game sometime," said Harry. "It sounds fun."

"You've never seen quidditch?!" asked Cedric.

"Zat is terrible!" declared Viktor.

"Flight class is fun, and you do quidditch on brooms, right?" asked Harry.

Open gaping from two of the Champions, apparently unable to parse that someone established in the wizarding world could be ignorant of the sport.

"Yeah, Atlantis has contained areas where you can work on flight manueverability and avoidance skills, but no outdoor areas where you can set up a quidditch pitch," explained Hecate.

* break *

"Dragons, just great." Harry shook his head. "Let's see."

Harry tapped his glasses a couple of times, bringing up the telescopic function to better study the clutch of eggs. Tapping three more times to cancel that and bring up the [Mirror Shades] function because it was a bit bright today.

"Okay, then," said Harry. He'd been allowed his glasses but because of some archaic laws he'd been disallowed his usual allotment of charms and enchantments. Which, considering that his specialty was enchanting various objects, was quite a handicap for him.

"HARRY!" yelled Hermione from the stands. "Don't forget the plan!"

"Hadn't," mumbled Harry. "Accio Scythe!" When nothing answered his attempted spell, he changed targets by pointing his hand in a slightly different direction. "Accio broom!"

This time a broom appeared, but it was hardly the usual broom seen about the castle. There were bands of darker-looking metal circling the wood of the broomstick, long feathers in amongst the twigs, and the handles in front had wing-like extensions.

"What a ratty-looking broom!" exclaimed some boy in the stands.

Quickly mounting his broom, Harry lifted off. "Comet Trail."

Leaving behind a yellow-white trail of light behind him, handy for certain broom games they'd worked out back in Atlantis such as the Maze Chase, Harry darted up and observed how the dragon's attention was entirely on him. "Mirror Image." Three Harry Potter were now diving and wheeling and leaving criss-crossing trails behind them.

Harry did that a few times, zipping around the field and then raising his wand again mid-swoop. "Tamaya!"

Fireworks blossomed around him, including a long serpentine form that raced around the field, drawing snaps and bites from the dragon.

During all this, Harry swooped down, grabbed one egg, and was out again while the Hungarian Horntail guarding the nest was snapping at an illusion-Harry and the fireworks-dragon.

"If you can't baffle them with brilliance, confound them with chaos," said someone in the stands. "Hah!"

The dragon calmed down as the fireworks faded out and the two illusion-Harrys disappeared.

"Harry Potter of the Atlantean school has his egg inside the time limit," announced Bagman. "Now for the scores."

Three "five" scores floated up, joined by one "two" and a pair of "six" scores.

* break *

"Excuse me," said Hermione. "You're blocking the door."

"Oh, did you hear that," said the blond boy, glancing at his two friends. "The MUDBLOOD wants to get by."

"I would rather you not use such a term," said the shorter girl, glaring up at him.

"Why? What are you going to do about it, MUDBLOOD?" asked the boy.

One hand sped out, somewhat faster than a bludger and with considerably more aim. There was a light tap on the boy's throat.

The boy blinked for a moment, sneered, and began making mouth-motions as if he was talking. Except that there was no actual sound involved.

"Special Technique: Silence Is Golden," said Hermione. "Do you want to see a technique that will shut off your ability to ever have children?"

The boy made a couple more attempts to speak and then moved out of the way.

"Thank you," said Hermione, pushing past him. "Your voice will return in about five minutes. I didn't use the permanent version that would explode your voicebox. Be grateful."

* break *

Okay, thought Draco Malfoy. The witch, even though she was apparently a mudblood according to Tracey, had wandless magic down to such an extent she could use a "Silencio" charm without the words or wand. She might not be able to do it at range or be able to do something really destructive, but he didn't want to test such things himself.

Also noteworthy was that she was a crazy violent witch. His mother came from the Black family, notable for such witches in their lineage, and some of the family history there indicated that messing with such could be all sorts of painful and humiliating.

Altogether, it meant going after safer targets until he could arrange someone expendable trying to test the little psychopath and see how much was bluff.

* break *

Albus Dumbledore wasn't quite sure what to make of the enigma that was Harry Potter.

He'd attempted to get Harry from Atlantis on three attempts, then adopted a wait-and-see attitude to determine if perhaps the "power the Dark Lord knows not" was something he'd picked up overseas. Albus had been pretty sure that power was "love" but he was not some teenage witch who believed in "love conquers all" or similar things. It was an old magic with a fair amount of power and intent behind it - but hardly omnipotent of itself.

Harry had just demonstrated on the completion of the First Task some of the skills he'd developed at that other school. "Tamaya" was a Japanese fireworks spell, one that often produced fanciful shapes that would fade within a minute or so. "Mirror Image" was another spell he'd heard of, Australian if he recalled correctly. A wizard could quickly tell which of the images was real, or could dispel the images by means of a wide-area spell like "Bombarda" or similar things.

The tricky broom flying and the enhancements on it were more telling. That was a custom-made broom, not a mass produced sort at all.

A few comments from Harry to that little friend of his where a portrait could overhear further confirmed his guess. Harry had made the broom himself, looking at various things produced elsewhere and had made a broom that wasn't quite up to snuff with the Cleansweeps in the sorts of things that quidditch brooms were made for. No - that particular broom was built to be the most manueverable thing in the air and even had some sort of charms to deal with something he wasn't familiar with that was referred to by the code-term "G-Force" that was no doubt encountered at that school of theirs.

Well, judging from how he and the little muggleborn hung around each other - he at least knew where he could find a hostage for the Second Test.

* break *

"Weird, it makes a lot of noise..." said Cedric.

"It's Mermish," said Harry.

"Pardon?" asked Fleur.

"Mermish, try putting it in water," said Harry.

"What makes you think..." Viktor began.

"Hey, where is my school located? Twenty thousand leagues under the sea, right?" asked Harry. "I've heard Mermish. This is what it sounds like outside the water."

"That bad? It is just screeching," pointed out Viktor.

"You think that's bad, you should hear their opera," said Harry.

"So why are you helping us instead of keeping the secret for yourself?" asked Cedric.

"International cooperation?" tried Harry. He shrugged. "Honestly, I could care less about winning this thing. Main thing I'm out to do is prove that Atlantis is a valid school. As long as I place well - I'm doing that. Besides, one of the older years was pointing out that if we're all really close at the end - that'll generate more interest in the whole thing. As long as nobody does anything stupid in designing the Second or Third Task."

"So you're saying to submerge the eggs?" asked Cedric.

"That's what I'll do," said Harry. "Hang on, I'm not really good at water-manipulation spells. Hermione's much better at that sort of thing. Oh, there's Su Li. She's really good at transfigurating stuff."

The slim Chinese girl listened and came up with the simplest solution.

* break *

"Zat water is way too cold," said a shivering Fleur.

"The Black Lake in winter is not a good place to be," agreed Cedric.`

"Pah, this is nothing," said Viktor. "In Durmstrang, we have to take swim in much colder water first thing in morning!"

"No doubt with weights tied to you?" asked Cedric.

"Dah! You are familiar with Durstrang physical fitness?" asked Viktor.

"Lucky guess," said Cedric.

"What do you suppose clue means?" asked Fleur.

"Uhm, I'm not a Champion, but I'm from House Thales of Atlantis School. We do riddles," said Su Li. "As a guess - you're going to need to swim to the bottom of the Black Lake. You're going to need Warming Charms and a method of breathing underwater."

"Mermen guarding what we hold dear?" asked Cedric. "Any idea?"

"Come seek us where our voices sound, We cannot sing above the ground, And while you're searching, ponder this; We've taken what you'll sorely miss,  
An hour long you'll have to look,  
And recover what we took,  
But past an hour the prospect's black,  
Too late, it's gone, it won't come back."  
"Hope they don't take anything too important," said Harry. "If something happens and you can't complete it - you might have to negotiate with the local merfolk for its return. They can be as stingy as goblins and once something's theirs - they'll be inclined to keep it."

"Vell," said Viktor, "you are from Atlantis, so I expect you know such thing."

"Yeah, I've met some. Some look really human-like, but those tend to be the tropical varieties. I wouldn't expect the locals to be too close to human appearance and it's one of those cases where the more human they look the more human they act. There's a couple of deep sea-tribes you don't want to interact with."

"R'yleh," supplied Su Li.

"Did it just get colder?" complained Fleur.

"Don't pay attention to her," said Harry with an eye roll added in for good measure.

"It's not just fiction! I know it!" declared Su Li. "He just changed the names - they're Wrackspurts!"

"Getting back to the clue," said Harry.

"Please," said Viktor.

"Merfolk are generally less greedy than goblins, but that's like saying a bonfire is less hot than fiendfyre. Won't keep you from getting burned," said Harry. "I think Hermione knows someone who has some Mermish relatives. Might be able to use as an intermediary if anyone can't recover whatever they're going to claim."

"You in zis Atlantis school have no problem wiz such?" asked Fleur.

"No, why would we?" asked Harry.

* break *

Albus Dumbledore, He-Of-Many-Names, was a bit flabbergasted. This did not happen very often, but it was usually nice when it DID happen because at his advanced age something completely unexpected was welcome. Most of the time.

Draco Malfoy was smirking behind his father. Expected.

Lucius Malfoy was standing confident. Expected.

Harry Potter was looking like he was waiting for a punchline. Not expected.

Hermione Granger, the muggleborn who was one of five young ladies who seemed to associate themselves with young Mister Potter, was backing away with a look of panic on her face. Which was completely out-of-character for her based on his observations thus far.

"So," said Harry. "You've been saying 'wait till my father hears about this' so often it became your catchphrase - and the moment he shows up its been to throw veiled comments on MY parentage?"

"Oh, come now, everyone knows how far the Potter line has fallen - and associating with mud," said Lucius Malfoy, his eyes flicking briefly towards Hermione, "well - you really don't have anyone to teach you proper behavior anyway do you?"

Harry bit his thumb, then clapped his hands together. "Only fair if you bring your father into this, that I bring mine - right?"

"Your family's dead, Potter..." Lucius Malfoy's voice trailed off as the temperature around the Black Lake shot further down and the clouds seemed to become even darker and more oppressive.

"I was adopted," said Harry. "Draco's father, meet my father."

He was suddenly there as if he had always been there. Skeletal figure in hooded robes, a bone-white scythe with gleaming blade held almost as if it was simply an oversized walking stick.

The figure spoke, and though it was not much more than a whisper it seemed as if the world quieted around each syllable to make it a shout instead. "HELLO, LUCIUS MALFOY. DO WE HAVE A PROBLEM?"

Albus Dumbledore realized he'd pulled his wand, and slowly put it away as he considered how much good the Elder Wand would do against its creator. It MIGHT be effective.

"I REALLY DON'T LIKE THE WHOLE 'DEATH EATER' THING," said Death. "HONESTLY, COULDN'T YOUR MASTER COME UP WITH A BETTER NAME?"

"Uhm," said Lucius.

"SERIOUSLY, I KNOW MORTALS HAVE A TENDENCY TO INSERT SEX INTO NEARLY EVERYTHING, BUT GROUPS ARE SO MUCH TROUBLE."

"Urk," said Lucius.

"NOW, LET'S HAVE A BIT OF CHAT, SHALL WE?" Death laid a comradely (if bony) hand on Lucius' shoulder and the two vanished.

"Draco, did you just arrange for your father to have a 'date with Death'? Talk about ambition!" said Blaise Zabini. "How very Slytherin. Really, I'm surprised."

Draco was several shades paler than was his usual.

Lucius Malfoy reappeared a few minutes later, pale and shaking and absolutely not wanting to talk about it.

* break *

The hand-signals given in the Great Hall were obvious, their meaning less so.

That the Champions quickly gathered was quite obvious. That several of them were worried and two were quite pissed was also quite obvious.

"Hermione's missing," said Harry.

"Cho's missing," said Cedric.

Hecate looked more worried than pissed. "My associate, Circe Allister, is missing."

"I was expecting them to take my Enchanting supplies or maybe that broomstick I've been working on," confessed Harry. "Taking hostages? Not something I expected."

Viktor shrugged. "It is not too unexpected. Magical world very dangerous. Durmstrang reflect that in everyday attitudes."

"Hostages?" asked Fleur, looking at where the Beauxbatons students were gathered. "I do not think anyone present is missing and few of them I would even care. Most of zem dislike me, and no one is close."

"Sound a bit like Durmstrang," admitted Viktor. "More likely have alliances than friends, yes?"

"Oui," agreed Fleur. "Or non-hostility agreement."

"Dah, very like Durmstrang," said Viktor.

"Wait. Hostages. After an hour..." Harry got pissed. "Won't get them back?!"

"It might just be dramatic effect," said Cedric. "Old wizards and politicians - they love drama."

"Harry, put the gun away," said Hecate.

"Gun? Isn't that a muggle weapon?" asked Cedric, eyeing the odd device. He didn't expect a muggle weapon to have little tubes and cylinders and runes.

"Magic gun," said Hecate. "Something the Atlantis people worked out. I think it was some graduate project in their last year. Like a wand except it throws out overcharged spell effects. Like a blasting charm that takes out the whole wall."

"One of my projects," said Harry, considering the gun before putting it back away in his robes. "So, bottom of the Black Lake. Everyone have a method to survive down there?"

* break *

"You know," said Su Li to her neighbor, pitching her voice loud enough to be overheard, "someone didn't think this out."

"Not exactly unusual, but how so?" asked the Hogwarts teacher.

"The audience is stuck here watching the surface of a lake for an hour," pointed out Su Li. "Not exactly riveting."

"You have a better idea?" asked Professor Sinistra.

"Allowing the Champions to take along an optic," said Su Li, taking a monocle out of her bag. "Whatever the wearer sees ends up projected to an orb which could be set up above the lake so everyone could see. Then someone controlling the thing can switch from one Champion to another when something interesting is going on."

"Interesting," said Professor Sinistra, looking at the monocle. "This is one such?"

"Yeah, some people tried to cheat on exams with this sort of thing a year ago. They had to retake the exams without them, but the Charms professor awarded them a few points for the work," said Su Li.

Abbott, Susan. House Paracelsus. Favorite Class: Potions. Wants to be a dedicated healer, at this point in time at least.

Allister, Circe. House Thunderbird, Ilvermorny. Hecate's minion/associate. A bit clumsy, particularly in charms. Skilled in potions however.

Allonso. Prinny. Janitor. "I'm a janitor, D00d!"

Atlantis School For Magical Studies. Located almost halfway across the Atlantic along the seafloor in a stable area. There are no windows because there is no natural light at this depth, though there are plans for an Oceanography segment where one could visit the Leviathan, the Kraken, and other fascinating denizens of the oceans. They had a half-dozen names planned before settling on this one, and the accredation battle happens offscreen but is referenced. If they succeed, then Hermione and Harry would be visiting Hogwarts for the first time in the Hexawizard (formerly Triwizard) Tournament. If they fail to get full accredation in the wizarding community, then Harry and Hermione would go from Atlantis to Hogwarts (starting their third year of magical education in Hogwarts' first year.)

Austin, Aaron. House Thales. Tends to get preoccupied with various things and wander around in a daze. Favorite Class: Enchanting.

Canticle, Frodo. House Paracelsus. Failed to keep grades up and was sent off in the second year.

Clearwater, Clarence. House Hephaestus. Clumsy. Unrelated to the Clearwaters in Britain, is actually from Portugal. Favorite Class: Herbology. Has an unfortunate tendency to blow things up.

Death, aka Thanatos, aka Threshold, aka the Final Grin, etc. An Incarnate Of Reality. A bit over 13 billion years old. Fond of cats. Has a sense of humor but admits it is a weird sense of humor. As an Incarnate of a Fundamental Concept, is capable of being Omnipresent. Plays a terribly complicated card game with various other Incarnates.

Franks, Derrick. House Perseus. Swordsman, favoring a claymore. Especially large student from Atlanta's literally underground magical community. Favorite Class: Physical Education. Wants quidditch to come to the school.

Gallus, Susan. House Perseus. Spear-wielder. Favorite Class: Transfiguration. Develops a multi-spear throwing spell in her second year which she upgrades every year.

Granger, Hermione. House Perseus. Practitioner of Mystical Palm martial arts. Wanted to join Thales and applies for resorting in second year except for the Prep School plotline - which has them return to Hogwarts if that option was taken.

Grunch. Minotaur. Security Guard. Fond of licorice.

Ironwood, Horatio. Hopi, Hermione's sensei. Teaches Mystic Palm style martial arts which is loosely based on the Gentle Fist style (Hyuga clan style from Naruto) with bits of Hokuto No Ken's Hokuto Shinken mixed in. A devastating style that allows the practitioner to force magical energy into the target at specific points for odd effects. 97 years old. Also teaches Agricultural Studies.

Jones, Hecate. Thunderbird House, Ilvermorny. A powerful witch with a vicious streak and also a bit of a quidditch fanatic. Hasn't melted a cauldron in Potions in over a year, and is somewhat proud of that improvement. Usually has her friend Circe Allister work on potions when she needs one.

Kent, Conner. As this is 1991 - nobody is linking him to the DC Comics character of the same name. Same general build and heroic tendencies. House Perseus swordsman, prefers a gladius. Pursuing Denise Richards in fourth grade.

Killpenny. Goblin. Level 9 Bureaucrat who wields the Sacred Pen Of Kalkaruus. Enjoys muggle video games but laments that you cannot normally select goblin as a class/race option.

Li, Su. House Thales. British girl of Chinese descent who doesn't really speak that much Mandarin. Dislikes British cooking. Muggleborn. Favorite Class: Transfiguration. Is convinced that HP Lovecraft was right.

Life, aka What Happens, etc. An Incarnate Of Reality, the Fundamental Concept and therefore not tied to a single interpretation of anything. Is not terribly concerned with individuals or specific species. Bit of a pragmatist really. Has been known to get quite passionate about various causes and then move on to another cause and forget about the last one.

Madblood, Doctor Phineas. A mad scientist, research sorcerer, and TV celebrity who does comedy sketches around old movies as his schtick. This has the benefit of any slip-up in character to be dismissed as being in-character for his TV role. Does not actually appear in this story, merely referenced.

Murphy, aka Fate, alias That Guy, etc. An Incarnate Of Reality. Fond of slapping down people or things who get uppity. As an Incarnate of Chaos, can be viewed by those aware in just about any YouTube compilation dealing with crashes or Instant Karma. He knows where you live and where all the skeletons are buried.

Potter, Harry. The Boy Who Lived. House Hephaestus. Has no horcrux in his scar, which became the rune 'sowilo' after Death started associating with him. Favorite Class: Runecrafting.

Richards, Denise. House Perseus. Prefers using a bow. Favorite Class: Charms. Starting in fourth year is pursuing a relationship with Conner Kent. Very much into fashion. Hails from the magical community of Pungo in Virginia and follows the career of local magical researcher and TV personality Doctor Madblood.


	13. Chapter 13: A series of unfortunates

One Floo Under #12: A series of unfortunate events

a series of unfortunate ideas which deal with Harry Potter which i have no intention of fleshing out into a fic.

* break *

A red bolt of magical energy from the stands shot directly in front of where a broomstick was attempting to fly. The rider of the broomstick hauled up abruptly to change course.

A claw slammed into him with enough force that boy and broomstick and glasses all went flying on slightly different trajectories.

The crowd went silent, except for a single fist-pump and "GOT HIM!" - which was followed by about twelve members of the audience drawing wands and firing ten stunners, one cutting curse, and a boils hex into the individual responsible.

Those still watching caught a glimpse of a tumbling body in mid-air before the dragon's mouth caught up and slammed shut on the body.

* break *

"I bloody told him he shouldn't have entered his name in the Tournament," began Ron Weasley.

Hermione looked up at him, the words taking a few seconds to register. "What? You didn't say anything of the sort!"

"Too dangerous, even for that amount of mone-" continued Ron.

There was the sudden sound of someone being hit in the jaw hard enough that teeth were loosened.

"Ow ow ow ow ow," said Hermione, cradling her hand.

"Hermione," said George Weasley kindly. "You shouldn't do that."

"Use this," said Fred, handing her the sort of short bat he used in quidditch.

"Wha?" asked Ron, feeling his jaw. Why did it look like some terrible shadow had fallen over Hermione? How was she looming over him? Why... why was he still sitting here when he could be running?

* break *

"Great. I'm dead."

"So you are."

"Don't suppose I get a 'do over'?"

"Not usually, no."

"So, what now?"

"You being dead pretty much affects things in a negative way for your friends. They end up fighting Voldemort. They die."

"Oh. Well, I have to say dying wasn't as painful as I thought it would be."

"Of course, the main effect is that Britain breaks the Statute Of Secrecy and war between muggle and wizard starts after Buckingham Palace is razed and the Queen's tortured body is hung from the gates."

"Wha-"

"Yeah, it pretty much starts a full-on war. Wizards apparating in and out of supposedly secure places. Voldemort claims it will break the spirits of the muggles and allow his followers to take control." The glowing outline of a person in the train station took a seat next to Harry as it spoke to him.

Harry Potter considered that for a moment. "That wouldn't bloody work at all, would it?"

"No, there's a lot of attempts from various other magical governments at damage control, but the muggles end up wiping out most of the wizarding world once they get their heads wrapped around the concepts. Then someone finally authorizes a total war footing." The outline shook his head. "People being people - they deny any of it as real and debunk it even when there's physical evidence. Years later, and even with magical engines coming out - there are Mage-Deniers on the internet."

"So I'm responsible for the end of the wizarding world?" asked Harry.

"No," said the outline. "Tom Riddle is responsible for that. You might not have stopped him, but that doesn't make what he did your fault."

"Oh, because it sounded like you were blaming me," said Harry.

"If you were responsible for that, then you'd also be responsible for what came after the Wizard Wars," said the outlined being. "Scientists having had to figure out how to fight magic once it had gotten up in their face. Without Obliviators running around to scramble memories and cover it all up, a new branch of science is developed to deal with magical forces."

Images appeared in mid-air. Flying vehicles, spaceships apparating across the void, teleport booths, a floating billboard advertising dragon-fire flamed burgers, a fish-and-chips vendor located in an alien space station, flying castles, and huge metal golems fighting on what looked to be the moon.

"Huh. So something good eventually comes of it," said Harry.

"Perhaps, or perhaps not," said the outline. "Everything in your world is ephemeral. Things exist as they are for only a brief span of time, and then are forgotten. Eventually the Wizard Wars and Voldemort are forgotten to the pages of dry history, of interest to a few. So too does humanity eventually fade into obscurity. Depending on the timeline, it could take a century or a half-billion years but it happens most of the time."

"Well, that's a bit depressing," said Harry. "Wish I could've stopped him, but I wasn't exactly prepared to go up against Voldemort. I thought I was prepared to deal with a dragon, but that didn't turn out so well."

"Do you?" asked a third voice.

Harry looked around, but all he could see was himself and the outlined man-figure in the station. Oh, and there was a cat sitting on the bench across from them.

"What are YOU doing here, Elder?" asked the outline.

"Making a deal," said the cat, managing to speak while licking a forepaw.

"Beware making deals with Elders, Harry Potter," said the outlined figure.

"I'm already dead," pointed out Harry.

"You could be even worse off," said the outlined figure.

"A deal for what?" asked Harry.

"Well, if I meddle, I get people saying I've overpowered something or someone, so... why not go with that instead of wasting time arguing about it?" asked the cat.

"You're not going to turn him Super-Saiyajin are you?" asked the outlined man.

"Well, that was one possibility," admitted the Elder cat. "Or Kryptonian. Or Apocalyptin. Or something similar. I'm pretty sure I could get Loki to go along with a god-descent sort of thing."

"How would that even work with his parents?" asked the outlined man.

"Oh, that's easy enough," said the cat. "James Potter always had a bit of a mouth-control problem. Combine that with Lily Evans' temper and you have a situation where she could be off in a snit getting drunk. All James would have to do is say the wrong thing at the wrong time."

"Something he was known to do anyway," said the outline. "This has the potential to escalate entirely out of control."

"So, you can do something so my friends don't die?" asked Harry.

"Well, yes," said the cat, briefly wearing a top hat. Then a bowler, fedora, trilby, and then all of them stacked together.

Harry blinked and then shrugged. "Well, can I be awesome?"

The cat grinned. The outlined figure groaned and stuck its head in its hands.

"That's it," said the outlined figure finally. "I'm out of here. Mister Potter, you'll have to live with the consequences of this."

* break - possibility one *

"Wait," said Lee Jordan, peering out at the dragon as the handlers tried to get it under control. "Something's happening."

The audience stopped weeping, Hermione stopped trying to brain Ron, Draco stopped gloating, and a disguised Death Eater finally lapsed into blessed unconsciousness after his wand had been taken away and jammed completely up his nose with Cho Chang's left shoe currently lodged in his rectum.

Slowly the dragon's mouth was forced open and Harry Potter was revealed, his feet on the tongue while his hands were pushing up the roof of the dragon's mouth.

"Harry Potter is alive! Alive and... how the heck is he doing that?!" asked Lee Jordan. "Not that he doesn't have a lot of motivation."

"ARGH!" yelled Harry as he leapt out of the dragon's mouth with a final heave.

"Harry's managed to get himself out, and... now the dragon's spit flame all over him. Yes, Harry Potter is dead again. No, wait, he's still alive - it's just that his clothes are burned off of him now... Good grief, Harry, put some pants on at least. Now Harry's running around, rather fast he is, trying to cover himself and would someone just conjure up some pants for the poor boy or would that be interference?"

"EEEP!" said Hermione and roughly half of the girls present watching. Not that they weren't continuing to watch, many of them making a show of covering their faces and then peeking between spread fingers.

"I believe it would be interference," said Professor McGonagall. "Though it would be a decent thing to do. Certainly more tasteful. Mister Potter, DO put some clothes on."

"Not so leetle after all," called out Fleur Delacour. "Eeet is about time zat guys suffered 'wardrobe malfunctions' too, no?"

"No!" answered a large number of the audience - mostly male.

"Yes!" countered another large group of the audience - mostly female and getting over the earlier embarassment.

"When did Harry get abs?" asked Hermione, as the least mortifying question going through her head at the moment.

Another burst of flame covered Harry as he crashed to the ground.

"Well, that'd kill off just about anyone, but after the last two times, I'm not calling it," said Lee Jordan.

A rock roughly the size of a piano came out of the fire and slammed into the dragon, staggering it.

As Harry strode out of the fire, lifting a second rock about the same size, Lee decided to go ahead and ask the question. "Uhm, did Harry Potter get taller and quite a bit more muscular? Or is it that he was always slouching? Anyone know how he's doing this?"

The various members of audience watched as Harry leapt up and backhanded the dragon hard enough that it flopped back away from the eggs. At which point Harry just grabbed the one egg, and stalked forward. He put the egg down on the table and didn't even pause on his way towards the medical tent. Also to find something to wear.

* break *

"Ah," said Poppy, the mediwitch shaking her head. "Actually I knew about this. Well, that it was a possibility at least. I was present at Mister Potter's birth after all."

"What was a possibility?" asked Minerva McGonagall.

"James Potter was not the father," said Poppy.

"WHAT?!" asked practically everyone present.

"I'm only mentioning this because otherwise you'll pester Mister Potter, and I swore to Lilly I'd do what I could if it turned out that James Potter was not Harry's father," said Poppy. "According to Lilly, James was being a right prat at one point in their relationship."

"Always," mumbled Severus Snape.

"In fact, what James had done was a spell that summoned forth an 'otherworldly lover'," said Poppy. "I think he'd come across it and thought it was a joke. Apparently not so much. However, instead of dismissing the woman he'd summoned - he actually had carnal relations. Lilly found out, and apparently decided that the old 'what is good for the goose' applied and had a bit of revenge against James. What the spell does though was create a sort-of copy of someone else that only lasts a day or two at most. Apparently Harry's real father was such a temporary stand-in for someone named... oh what was it? Oh yes - Kaliel."

Hermione had been sipping a glass of water and let forth a spew of water that rivaled a natural geyser. Flitwick absent-mindedly gave Gryffindor five points for a wandless Aquamenti spell. After she finished coughing, she had to ask the question. "Wait. Was the name 'Kal-El'?"

"Yes, that was it," said Poppy. "Sounds kind of Yiddish to me."

"Hermione, you just turned really really pale," said Ron. "Who is this guy anyway?"

"The glasses, the hair. Oh my god, Harry Potter is Clark Kent!" exclaimed Hermione.

"This is one of those times you don't make any sense to anyone else in the room," pointed out Ron. "Just saying."

"Kal-El is the Last Son of the Planet Krypton," said Hermione. "I never read that much about him, it was fictional after all, but he's also named 'Superman' and is from some publication over in the Americas."

"A most ominous name," said Albus Dumbledore. "This will have to be researched."

* possibility two *

Harry shook his head, looking up at the dragon. He didn't need the Wisdom of Solomon to know that he couldn't face this head-on without saying the name of his magical patron and transforming into Captain Marvel. Which he couldn't do without revealing that little factor to a large audience.

That he certainly wasn't ready to do, as he might need that surprise later against Voldemort.

No, he'd have to meet this challenge as Harry Potter, but maybe... he could remember learning some of Shazam's magic and there were a couple of spells that he could use here maybe.

He had a mentor who was a powerful wizard, with access to spells from across Eternity. Of course he'd gotten curious because he was a wizard himself and every freaking year there was an attempt on his life. You didn't need the Wisdom of Solomon to see a need to prepare, did you?

Harry started with Dancing Lights cast into the air above and to the left of the dragon. Casting ON the dragon would likely fail due to that whole "magic resistance" thing, but drawing her attention away from the nest was a possibility.

Dragons, at least these varieties, were not sapient. Didn't mean they weren't clever. This one just flicked her eyes at the display then back to him.

"Not going to make it easy, eh?" Harry asked her. "Well, how about..."

"Protection From Fire! Accio Firebolt! Multiple Shadow Clone Technique!" cast Harry. "Haste! Protection Aura!"

"And there it is, wizards and witches," said Lee Jordan. "While Harry has been forbidden those nonstandard spells of his in class or on the quidditch pitch - nobody thought to put it in the rules for the Tournament did they?"

"We may have to do that in the Second and Third Task," said Albus Dumbledore from his position in the Judges' Box. "Otherwise it is quite unfair to the other contestants."

* third possibility *

Harry pried the dragon's mouth open, more impressive when one did it from the inside.

"And there we see it again," said Lee Jordan as the commentator for this First Task of the Triwizard. "As a dragon learns the hard way, if you try to kill Harry Potter you'll just make him stronger. Your thoughts, Professor?"

"His adopted father, James, was a fairly normal wizard, but his biologic father being a Saiyajin means that 'that which does not kill him will make him stronger' in a literal fashion," said Professor McGonagall.

"I've heard it put as 'that which does not kill Harry Potter might just piss him the hell off and is not recommended' but I suppose your version is a bit more audience-friendly," said Lee Jordan. "Oooh. He just punched the mama dragon in the face. That's got to hurt."

"Mister Potter should remember that this is a a Tri-WIZARD competition and that he should be using magic instead of just punching problems until they go away," said Professor McGonagall. "However effective that might have been in some of his previous adventures."

"Could be worse, Draco Malfoy is always trying to hex or insult him - and if he hit Malfoy the way he hit that dragon there'd be Draco-bits from here to Beauxbatons," said Lee.

"Thank you, Mister Jordan, for that image," said Professor McGonagall. "Just what I needed before afternoon tea."

"Well, he got the egg," said Lee. "Looks like the dragon is a bit reluctant to fight Harry for some reason."

"So I see," said Professor McGonagall.

"Even a dragon's got more sense than Draco, I suppose," said Lee.

* possibility 4 *

July 31, 1980 (set background music: "Bad To The Bone")

Pomfrey was just here as an assistant to the midwife, but as the birth process finished up, she couldn't help but blurt out a surprise. "Why does the child have two umbilical cords?"

The mid-wife stopped cleaning the baby for a moment to register what she was seeing, then continued. "That is not an umbilical cord."

"That... oh," said Medi-witch Pomfrey. "A bit..."

"He's going to be very popular in fifteen or sixteen years," said the mid-wife.

* break *

"How in the world did you get those to grow so well?" asked the neighbor, admiring the front garden.

Petunia Dursley fidgeted a bit. "Well, Vernon does do a bit of foreign travel with his company you know."

"And the hedges," gushed the neighbor. "Really, are you hiring someone to do them? All I've ever seen is that boy of yours working in the front."

"Well..." said Petunia Dursley, engaging in a bit of hedging herself.

"I can't even get plants like that to grow in my yard, much less do so well," continued the neighbor.

"Yes, well, it's... just luck," said Petunia Dursley.

* break *

"NO MORE FREAKISHNESS!" yelled Vernon Dursley.

The boy just looked up at him, those brilliant green eyes not showing a hint of remorse.

Vernon Dursley swallowed nervously, hating the way those eyes made him feel. The freak was only five years old, but the child had been able to look as if he were at least twice that age since he was three! The child had been thrown outside when he was two and the little freak had stared down Marge's dog Ripper!

Actually, Ripper was supposed to be afraid of nothing being a prized bulldog who regularly won when pitted against other dogs in that little fighting circuit Marge took part in. Yet Ripper had taken one good look and sniff at the freak and instantly wet himself.

Not that Vernon could over much blame the dog.

"Vernon, my rose bushes won a prize," said Petunia. "They're the talk of the neighborhood."

"That's... bad?" asked Vernon.

"No, that's good," said Petunia, whose confusion was obvious to anyone who knew her. "Except that they want to know how I managed to get Black Desert Roses growing here."

"That's good?" asked Vernon.

"No, that's bad," said Petunia. "I didn't plant Black Desert Roses. They're rare and expensive."

"So that's bad," said Vernon with a nod.

"No, that's good," corrected Petunia. "Because of that, Peter from down the street took some photos for the local Lawn & Garden contest."

"Are we still on good or is this back to bad?" asked Vernon.

Petunia shrugged slightly. "Bit of both, actually."

* break *

"IT'S HERE! IT'S FINALLY HERE!" proclaimed Vernon Dursley.

"Seriously?! About time!" seconded Petunia Dursley.

"Harry! Your Hogwarts letter!" declared Vernon Dursley. Finally! Months at the very least without THAT BOY here! With any luck the brat would get himself killed and not bother them at all.

* break *

"So. That's it," said Harry Potter, looking into the flame.

"That it is," said the voice only he could hear.

"So magic in humans traces back to such things?" asked Harry.

"Where else?" asked the fire. "Those Greeks did it first, I think. Though it might have been the Egyptians, I'll grant them that. After a generation or three it usually settles down into the ability to wield magic being the inheritance you get out of it."

"Well then, there's a precedence." Harry nodded.

* break *

"Harry Potter is going to be on that train. It would be a shame if something happened to it."

"I will take care of it. One little demi who doesn't get to grow up will be no problem."

* break *

The Engineer looked out the window, frowned, rubbed his eyes, then looked again. "Chauncey? Can ye take a look and tell me if you see what I see?"

The firetender did that, stared a few seconds, then answered. "Kobolds on motorcycles waving swords and axes as they's approachin'? Yeah, I be seeing that meself but kobolds ain't exactly native ye know."

"Kobolds. Biker kobolds by the dress code and mounts. In Wales." The Engineer was silent for a moment. "If this was Austria, I could see it happenin'."

"Aye, they're a bit nuts over there. Except for that cake thingie they got there. That rocks," agreed the firetender.

"Sachertorte? Too rich for my digestion by half," said the Engineer. "Want to alert the prefects and upper years we got a situation?"

"Suppose so, they ought to be enough to run thems off," answered the firetender. "I be tellin' the Conductor."

* break *

"Kobolds?" asked the Slytherin Prefect. "What the hell are 'kobolds'?"

"Kobolds are a class XXX Beast. Humanoid, similar to goblins in some respects," said the other Slytherin Prefect. "Mainly found in Austria and Romania. Underground dwellers, tool users, able to use some earth-based magic. Known as trackers of magical beasts and very territorial."

"Whatever, let's just-"

A metal ball rolled out between them and exploded, covering the area in some sticky purple substance that hardened after a second.

"Okay," said the first Prefect. "Didn't expect this."

* break *

"YAAAAAAAAAAA!" yelled one of the kobolds, raising some bladed weapon that was either an oversized dagger or undersized sword and rushing forward.

Harry drew a revolver, shot the kobold between the eyes, and waited there for a moment.

"YAAAAAA!" yelled another kobold as it leapt over its fellow.

Another shot. Another thud.

"THIS IS ENGLAND! YOU'RE NOT ALLOWED TO HAVE GUNS!" yelled a bushy-haired girl hiding behind him.

"Fine," said Harry, holstering the gun and drawing his wand.

"YAAAA!" yelled a third kobold, apparently emboldened by the lack of a firearm.

"Fireball!"

The kobold blew up with a part of the corridor beyond starting to burn.

"That was NOT in the Standard Book Of Spells!" protested the bushy-haired girl.

"Fine. You take the next one!" responded Harry.

"ME?!" asked the bushy-haired girl.

"You want to criticize, YOU take over," said Harry, gesturing down the hallway.

The door to the compartment abruptly slammed shut as the bushy-haired girl apparently decided to retreat instead.

Harry shook his head and glanced at the toad nearby. "Girls."

*possibility 5 - break *

The basilisk slithered out of the statue, yellow eyes considering the morsel before it. Then it abruptly stopped and sniffed. "Speaker? I'd really rather not kill this one."

"OBEY ME!" shouted the shade of Tom Riddle.

"But this one is of the line of -," began the basilisk.

"JUST KILL HIM ALREADY!" yelled the ghost.

"Oh bother," said the basilisk.

* break *

Not much had changed in the field until Harry stepped out of the tent and began approaching the dragon.

The Hungarian Horntail snarled and then did much as the basilisk had. It sniffed, paused, then sniffed again.

Then to the utter confusion of everyone present, the dragon BOWED to Harry Potter.

Harry decided to try something. "Uhm. One of those isn't really your egg. If I could just have that one?"

The dragon didn't understand the words but understood the pointing. It sniffed its eggs, trying to determine what that wizard wanted - determined one of these was NOT like the others, and nudged that stand-out towards the wizard in question.

"WHAT THE HELL?!" asked Lee Jordan in the Announcer's booth, speaking for everyone.

* break *

Nobody, including Harry, had been quite sure of what to make of the events of the First Task.

Except Hermione, who'd gotten a thoughtful look and went over Harry's recounting of the basilisk encounter several times. All she would say was that twice could just be a coincidence.

Now they'd gathered at the Black Lake for the Second Task, and Harry had almost expected SOMETHING to happen.

And here it was - the lake was bulging, then fountaining up, and the geyser finally formed into the image of a woman a good ten meters in height.

"WHAT THE HELL?!" asked Minerva McGonagall.

"Professor, language," chided Lee Jordan, glad of the chance to reverse their roles though he couldn't blame the teacher a bit.

"At last the Heir has come," said the water-woman, and it would be some time after before everyone realized they'd heard it in their native language.

"Who? Me?" squeaked Harry, confronted with a naked (if anatomically blurred) ten-meter tall woman.

"I was awakened when you crossed the Lake to the Castle, but you have not been back since," said the woman. "Now it is time for you to claim your destiny. The time isn't ready for you to wield it, but you will need to learn its use before then."

"Why is the water-woman offering the boy a sword?" asked Lee Jordan. "And why do I have the feeling I know this scene?"

"ACK!" said Minerva McGonagall, who followed that up with several statements in a brogue so thick you could practically walk across it. Understand it - not so much unless you were a Scot yourself.

"Oh bloody hell," said Hermione. "It's Excalibur."

"WHAT?!" reacted most of the crowd.

"STOP!" demanded Albus Dumbledore. "Harry, you mustn't -"

Then Harry's hand met the hilt of the sword and a column of light appeared.

* break *

Harry sighed. He just wanted to fit in. To have a NORMAL school year - was that really so much to ask for?

Now he had witches curtseying before him and calling him "my lord" among other things. He had wizards wanting him to KNIGHT them and ask for permission to be in his administration. He had Fudge trying to get someone to impound the sword (except that when it was taken from him - the sword would reappear in his possessions within an hour at the latest) or discredit him in the press.

RON was pissed at him for not saying anything earlier, and even the muggle government was wanting reassurances.

"All I'm saying is that because some watery tart tossed a sword at you and proclaimed you king doesn't give you the right to govern," said Hermione. "So you don't HAVE to be King Of All England."

"True," said Harry. "Though I think you have the quote wrong."

"You can delegate," continued Hermione. "Even more than that. You can..."

"Here, Hermione," said Harry, handing off a sword to her. It wasn't Excalibur of course. He'd gotten some wooden swords transfigured to be the same size as Excalibur. "I need to practice."

"I'm more of a researcher," protested Hermione. "Let me get Ron instead. You can whack at him."

* break *

Albus Dumbledore was a bit conflicted. His understanding of events was that Harry had to die in order for Voldemort to be defeated once and for all. Therefore Harry Potter had to be raised to be a sacrifice.

The Order of the Phoenix was set up to be a group of people loyal to him. Tools he could use to serve the Greater Good.

Instead he had the New Knights Of The Round.

"How could YOU betray me?" Dumbledore asked.

Fawkes merely preened.

"I don't really think 'Sir Fawkes, the Phoenix Knight' sounds that impressive," lied Dumbledore.

Fawkes disagreed.

* break *

"Harry," protested Hermione. "I am NOT a knight. I am a serious witch!"

"You're the one who encouraged me to start," protested Harry.

"I am NOT kneeling, I am NOT getting a sword now that you've figured out how to pull weapons out of some otherworldly armory, and I am NOT going to be 'Sir Hermione' with some made-up title," said Hermione.

"I raised Camelot," pointed out Harry. He was rather happy about that feat himself, the castle being locked away in a magical stasis and unlocked by Excalibur. "I have your parents tending to the soldiers there."

Some people in the wizarding world were rather put off by the presence of muggles in Camelot. Harry didn't care. Having regular soldiers guarding his magical castle was perfectly okay with him and let the regular British government get their information network in place. All very top secret and such, but if they knew he wasn't doing much of anything then they'd worry a lot less with all the things they could imagine happening - at least that was his reasoning.

"Thank you, it's nice to be able to see my parents more often," admitted Hermione. "That's not going to get me to change my mind."

"You'd be 'Lady Hermione, Knight of the Library'," tried Harry.

"No," said Hermione.

"You don't want to be the Badass Bookworm on the team?" asked Harry.

"Language," chided Hermione.

"Well," spoke up Daphne Greengrass from where she'd been listening in. "If Granger here doesn't want a position under you..."

"What?" asked Hermione.

* break *

"We have to do something, Ron," said Hermione.

"That's 'Sir Ronald Weasley' y'know," said Ron.

"Don't be a prat," said Hermione.

"You have any idea how nice it is to say that to Malfoy?" asked Ron. "Cause it totally is."

"And you don't have a sword anyway," said Hermione.

"No, I got a cudgel," said Ron. "Nicer than a sword it is. Enchanted cudgel named 'Headbasher' - nobody in my family's been knighted or carried an enchanted cudgel before."

"Isn't that cursed?" asked Hermione.

"Naw, that's another club with the same name," said Sir Weasley, the Clubbing Knight. "My club casts a sleep spell on impact. Do you want to see?"

"Well, I am curious about the charmwork," admitted Hermione, putting her hand out.

Ron tapped Hermione lightly on the head. Hermione abruptly fell asleep.

"See, you don't even need to hit hard," said Ron, before he understood properly what had just happened. "Oh. I better not be here when she wakes up, had I? Uhm, Neville."

"Don't look at me," said Neville, who'd been mostly amused at the exchange until the tap out.

"Boys," grumped Parvati. "Padma, give me a hand. We'll get her to a room."

"Fine," said Padma, rolling her eyes.

"Oooh, I have an idea," said Lavender, a look of mischief on her features.

"I think you ought to hide," Neville said to Ron. "This does not bode well."

"I got a bad feeling about this," agreed Ron. "Maybe this is a good time to check the quest board."

* break *

Queen Elizabeth II didn't bow or curtsy, but she did incline her head towards the young man. "King Potter."

"Your Majesty," said Harry, trying to keep from bowing or panicking or a number of other reactions. This was, after all, the Queen.

"Things seem to be going well," said the Queen. "I've heard from Sergeant Carruthers that he rather fancies riding dragonback."

"It's kind of strange that the dragons seem to like him too, considering he's not magical," replied Harry.

"I understand that some of the soldiers have been trying to get ahold of wands and such, 'just in case'," said the Queen.

"True," agreed Harry.

* possibility 6 - break *

Time paused, ran sideways a bit, and then restarted.

There were magicals present. Most of these couldn't understand the concept of subtle. Four immediately knew SOMETHING had happened. Two had a pretty good idea what.

Albus Dumbledore had a few problems with being able to fit events into preconceptions, but when confronted with something entirely unexpected could overcome that long enough to work out the details. He'd have to wait until the judging was done, but he had a few instruments to check that might reveal a few things.

Luna Lovegood had a serious look on her face that would've startled anyone who thought they knew her.

Not even close to being nearby, in the Department of Mysteries, several very specialized instruments gave very odd results - which resulted in a lock-down of the Department and an all-nighter to figure those results out.

The dragon suddenly began choking and then threw up.

"Well, THAT could have gone better," said Harry Potter as he got up out of the steaming pile of vomit and grabbed an egg since he was right there.

* break *

"Harry, you should never have entered your name in the Tournament. You were one swallow away from dead," exclaimed Ronald Weasley.

"I DIDN'T enter the Tournament, and I... what the hell happened to you?" asked Harry, noting the amount of bruising showing.

"Hermione, George, Fred, and -" began Ronald.

"Ahem," said Hermione.

"I mean 'I fell.' Down some stairs I mean," said Ron.

"I see," said Harry after a moment. His tone indicated he wasn't entirely sure about this.

"Anyway, Harry, we thought you were dead. How did you manage to get the dragon to throw you up?" asked Hermione. "I wasn't aware dragons could actually do that."

"Projectile vomiting spell," said Harry.

"Oh, but dragons are magically resistant," pointed out Hermione. "So you basically got lucky."

"That acid was enough to melt yer clothes, good thing it didn't do that to yer skin," said Ron, his words a little slurred due to some of the bruises and contusions being located where they interfered a bit with speech.

"Oh, I cast fire resistance and acid resistance on myself," said Harry. "It's supposed to work on my equipment but didn't for some reason."

"I blame the Elder," said Luna from her position off to the side, looking at him through an odd pair of glasses.

"Yeah, so do I actually," agreed Harry.

"'Elder'?" asked Hermione.

"It wasn't Dagon or Hastur, was it?" asked Luna.

Harry paused for a moment, looking at the various confused expressions around him, then at Luna before answering. "Toltiir."

"The Jester, the Many-Angled Mischief, the Meddler Of Space-Time," said Luna. "The Cat of Chaos, the Fickle Finger Of Fate, and so on."

"That's the one," agreed Harry. "Surprised you've heard of it."

"I have often suspected that Being's involvement," said Luna. "That's why no one outside my family believes in wrackspurts or the Crystal Chimes of Nalak Thuur."

"Don't tell me you're going as looney as Looney," said Ron.

"Hermione, may I borrow your mallet?" asked Luna.

"How do you even know about 'The Cat Who Laughs'?" asked Harry.

"It's an n-dimensional being that exists in the branespace beyond normal space-time," said Luna, giving Hermione's mallet a couple of trial swings. "Things existing outside normal space-time is somewhat of a specialty in my family."

Ron chose not to reply, mainly as he was busy edging towards the doorway.

Hermione stared at the blonde as if she'd never seen her before for a moment. "You know - that explains so much."

"So, what was the bargain?" asked Luna, her gaze drifting back to normal somewhat.

"'Bargain'?" asked Hermione.

"Oh, just the usual," said Harry. "Involves putting a shrine up. I think I'll put it in the Shrieking Shack. Should keep most people away from it."

"What exactly is this-" began George.

"'elder' thing you're talking about?" finished Fred.

"The god of pranks," said Luna.

"Was that ominous thunder?" asked Hermione, looking out a window. "It wasn't, was it?"

"How interesting," said George.

"Unfortunately we have to get on to class," added Fred.

*break*

Albus Dumbledore slowly returned to consciousness.

He was, by the smell, in the Infirmary.

He had been telling Harry Potter to divulge the details of this 'bargain' he'd made, and had performed a quick attempt at reading Harry's mind, and then he'd been on a boat on a river with tangerine trees and marmalade skies. There had been a girl on the shore, Asian from the look of her, except her eyes had been red with an odd pinwheel design.

There had been rocking horse people eating marshmallow pies. Then it had gotten most thoroughly weird.

He still tasted a bit of the color chartreuse on his tongue.

"You're awake?" came the voice of Severus Snape.

Reluctantly, Albus Dumbledore opened his eyes and felt the world slowly settle into something approximating the correct place. "That was unpleasant."

"Legilimancy against Potter appears ill-advised," said Snape.

"Apparently so," said Dumbledore.

"He told his friends, Mister Weasley is an open book so long as you're willing to go past all the thoughts about food and quidditch," said Professor Snape. "However, the exact details were not disclosed even to Potter's bookends."

* break *

A/N: i could see any of these escalating quickly. Voldemort isn't stupid, crazy being something else altogether, and in something other than a children's series with the appropriate tropes - he would be scrambling for anything to narrow or match the gap between his own power and whatever he perceives Harry's abilities to be.

In the case of the Return Of The King - that'd be bolstering his own ranks with whatever dark creatures he could find. Of course, the problem with that being that the more powerful creatures are not very easy to control or direct. Having Lucius Malfoy eaten by a grue would probably fit in there very quickly.

In the Kryptonian possibility, he possesses the vulnerability to magic but going with something rare in comics - it would be CONSISTENT. The official stance being that a cutting curse would still cut him because it is a direct magical effect that cuts nearly everything. Whereas conjuring up flames, of any temperature less than solar, isn't going to do much more than redden his skin. So he'd have to dodge most curses/hexes/jinxes but banishing a rock at him isn't terribly effective. That would pretty much be the case for the Saiyajin (Saiyan in English?) and Captain Marvel possibilities too - but having access to the Rock and Library of Eternity would mean the possibility of adding spells from other sources. And having half of Ravenclaw trying to befriend him.

Just picturing the scene where Harry exits some version of the Infinite Library in front of Hermione or someone from Ravenclaw and explains the concept. The reactions could be amusing.

Child of Loki - running plotline where he's targeted by various individuals/beings/creatures for being a godspawn. Amusing part would be Death Eaters attacking, hitting the wrong target, and then abruptly being hunted by those other forces - some of whom would find Voldemort to be tasty and good with catsup.

As for the "unhidden approach" - i left the deal and details unwritten as there are a number of ways it could go. i was originally thinking Libromancy, where he could reach into a book and pull forth a conjuration of an item described in the text. An example being reaching into "Splinter Of The Mind's Eye" by Alan Dean Foster and pulling out a light saber to hand off to Fred. Creating a magical duplicate of an item that lasts an hour or two (or until the last stroke of midnight or some similar condition) and that has some similar mass/property limitations (a blaster would be possible, the Falcon being too big) has possibilities. Besides, the idea of Harry pulling a large handgun out of a book and shooting Voldemort in the face has a certain appeal. Fred and George researching a Wand Of Wonder from D&D also could have some amusement value.

As always, i blame that i've got a bit over an hour's travel time to and from work every day. Sufficiently long that the mind wanders and can end up in unfamiliar territory. If there IS a fic with this idea down, be sure to list the title in comments so i can take a gander and see where someone else's muse ended up. Likewise - if someone wants to take an idea and run with it, or twist it to their own ends - just post a title or something in a comment and go with it.

And then there's this:

"-unless of course, Mister Potter will actually tell someone how he managed to survive-" continued Albus Dumbledore at the head table, speaking of all the reasons for restricting the students to dormitories and classrooms.

"Enough," said Harry, standing up.

"Ah, well, then we'll just have this discussion in my office," said Dumbledore, glad that he'd finally won.

"I don't think so," said Harry. "You want to keep your own secrets, but learn and use everyone else's. So this is going out in the Great Hall. Especially with all the rumors going round. There are Beings that existed before our own universe formed. Some of these are very very bad as far as humans are concerned. Most of them are completely unconcerned with what we call reality, it's really beneath their notice. A guy named HP Lovecraft had visions of the lesser of these things and called them Great Old Ones. Beyond those are the Outer Gods, the Many-Angled Ones, The Deeper Dwellings, and such. Summoning or trying to control these either fails or results in the people doing it going insane or being eaten by a million invisible mouths or similar things."

"Just to put it out there," interrupted Filius Flitwick, "attempting to summon a Great Old One is cause for immediate expulsion and your magic to be sealed. Please continue, Mister Potter."

"I hardly think this is appropriate, Filius," said Albus Dumbledore.

"Beyond them are the Things Between The Spaces Above," said Harry, continuing. "We live in a three-dimensional world with a fourth dimensional medium. The very small spaces, which are only small from our perspective as they are segments of the universe itself and connected, bring the total number of right-angles you can have to twelve and a half."

"I always knew there was something fundamentally wrong with the universe," said an obvious muggle-born at the Ravenclaw table.

"You get beyond that and you get into the realm of Higher-Energy Universes and the Branespace and such," said Harry. "And that's where you find the Being known as Toltiir - the self-styled 'god of pranks and pratfalls' and the one that contacted me."  
"Now, Harry, we really should be having this conversation privately," said Dumbledore.

"Have you ever wondered how magic can know something?" asked Harry. "How magic keeps track of oaths and promises and treaties? How you can turn a table into a turtle when you consider all the 'fiddly bits' in the individual cells and how they store energy and funcstion? If you're an animagus - how can you continue to think as a human with a brain that's a lot less complicated or function at all? If you turn Malfoy into a ferret, how do you turn him back without a blueprint of everything that sums up Draco Malfoy and avoid having him sire little ferret babies in the future because the DNA isn't quite right anymore?"

"WHAT?!" squeaked Draco.

"It's because of this," said Harry, making a gesture. Suddenly it was as if he was somewhere else that everyone could see but still standing there at the Gryffindor table. Instead he was standing in a vast library. "This is the Akashic Library of Earth. Everything that has been written or learned on our world is here. How everything works. Every deal or bargain or oath is recorded here. Every True Prophesy and every scrap of research. Every alternate form of magic is detailed somewhere in these stacks. The deal was that I am now the Custodian of this place."

"Urkle," said Hermione, staring into that not-space as the sheer impact of that place with books that were switching their position from one set of shelves to the other hit her. Shelves of books and scrolls and clay tablets that were stretching out in literally every direction.

"It's literally more than a human mind can handle," said Harry. "Just a partial overview of the indexes give me a headache. So, I'm... Hermione? You're drooling. Just saying."

Hermione twitched and delicately wiped the drool away but otherwise did not reply.

"Anyway," said Harry. "There you go. That's the terrible deal I made. I now have access to more information than you, Headmaster. I took the liberty of looking up about Voldemort. You know he sucks at potions? Also the 'care of magical creatures' and Astronomy. Did you know that, just in this hall right now, there's twelve people making better grades than he did? Oh, and each and every one of those procedures he did to give himself more magical power has a major drawback that can come around to bite you on your arse if someone knows about it? I didn't know that. Apparently one of those fundamental laws of the universe is that there's always a cost. You can't just coast by in your studies to become a major wizard - you have to put in time studying and so on. I think a muggle named Heinlein called it the 'There's No Such Thing As A Free Lunch' rule. Interesting, eh? If even muggles, which most of you look down on, have figured that out - you'd think more wizards would get it."

"Harry," tried Dumbledore again.

"So, anyway, there you go," said Harry as the area around him seemed to snap back to normal, drawing a disappointed noise from the Ravenclaw table. "All it means is that I have access to an extradimensional library of magic and knowledge that kind of includes, well, basically everything. No big deal. Oh, and there was one stipulation. Don't know why that cat wanted it in place though."

"A 'stipulation'?" asked Minerva from her seat at the Head Table.

"Yeah, I can only upgrade minions or followers to include access," said Harry with a shrug. "That's how the thing's written anyway. As I don't have any minions, that's not a concern."

*BREAK - A scene that i rejected initially from "Floo Death" that KrisB nonetheless picked up on. The idea fleshed out a bit here.

"SQUIBS WERE NON-MAGICAL IN THE ABILITY TO USE MAGIC, YET CONTAINED ENOUGH MAGIC TO NOT BE CONSIDERED PART OF THE NON-MAGICAL HUMAN MAJORITY," said Life. "THAT IS NOW CHANGED. A BREAKTHROUGH OR TRIGGER ALLOWS THEM TO DEVELOP A SINGLE CHANNEL FOR THEIR MAGICAL ENERGY."

"WILD TALENTS THEN?" asked Death.

"LESS 'XANTH' AND MORE 'X-MEN' AS IT ALLOWS FOR PHYSICAL TRANSFORMATIONS," answered Life.

"Wait," said Dudley, sticking his head around a corner from where he'd been listening. "I get a magic power out of it?"

[NAME: Dudley Dursley]  
[ALIAS: Hardrock]  
[Mutant Power: Able to transform his body at will to a granite golem-form - with durability and strength increased to reflect the material. Unfortunately, he gets a great dealer slower in that form.]

"THAT'S BRILLIANT!" declared Dudley, who had an appreciation for being able to take a hit.

"What?" asked Petunia Dursley, not having expected that.

[NAME: Petunia Dursley]  
[ALIAS: Hedge Witch]  
[Mutant Power: Able to speed growth of plant life to 6x normal speed.]

"I am NOT a witch," stated Petunia Dursley, her face becoming extremely pinched in the process.

"That's also kind of a lame superpower," stated Dudley.

[NAME: Petunia Dursley]  
[ALIAS: Null]  
[Mutant Power: Magic nullifier]

"Wait," said Petunia Dursley as she read that floating icon. "You mean I would have a freak power, but that freak power is able to shut down other freak powers?"

"UP TO YOUR POWER LEVEL, YES," said Life.

"Well," said Vernon philosophically. "If you have to have some sort of freakishness, then negating freakishness isn't a bad thing now is it?"


	14. Chapter 14: Squib

Floo #14 being inspired by certain reviews.

\- break -

Everyone knew the day of the Change. It became one of those "where were you when" moments in time that defined a generation and provided a way to start a conversation. A literal world-shaking event.

Of course, as always, those born after the Change simply accepted it and wondered what the fuss was about.

\- break -

Place: Department Of Mysteries, MaCUSA.  
Time: July 13, 1979

The man took a deep breath, adjusted his hooded robes, and then step forwards to the wall of mirrors. He tapped each mirror in turn with a slender wooden stick, noting as each silvery surface rippled before he moved on to the next.

"Aris? This better be good," muttered a face that appeared on one of the mirrors. "I've got quite a lot to be done."

"I found the cause and determined the effect," said Aris.

One after another of the mirrors rippled again, and this time more faces appeared.

"You think you know?" asked a woman.

"Please, just a moment, so I can present my evidence to everyone all at once," said Aris. "That's why each Department of Mysteries in each country HAS these mirrors in the first-place after all."

"Who are we waiting on?" asked the woman.

"Croaker from Britain and Bruce in Australia," answered Aris.

"I'm here already," grumped a mirror before clearing to show an old aboriginal man. "When you get to my age it takes a little while to get around."

"This better be good," said the final mirror after a brief silence.

"For the record. The event known as the Change occurred on July 10 at twelve-fifty-three local time," said Aris. "It blew wards out in the American Southwest, and it was from the severity of the tremor there that I was able to locate it exactly. It took place on the Sedona super-nexus, nearby magicals were stunned and even simple enchantments were burned out within five kilometers of the epicenter."

"'Sedona'? What the bloody hell is in Sedona?" asked the severe-looking woman.

"There WAS the self-styled 'Queen Of Dark Magic' Alexandra DuBois and an omega-class power tap," said Aris. "It was, for those of us familiar with muggle equipment, rather like grabbing onto the main cables of a nuclear power plant. The burning shriveled remains were found at the center of a ritual circle with some very odd scribings. I'm having to have those versed in muggle sciences try to work out the details as apparently Queen DuBois was attempting to do something involving genetics and such."

"I take it then that there's at least one less Dark Lady running about?" asked Croaker.

"She and her Inner Circle are all dead," said Aris. "Spells confirmed identities and is now being further investigated by our auror department."

"That might explain the ripple and the effects," agreed Croaker. "Will you send the notes?"

"Copies will be made available," said Aris with a nod. "Perhaps some of you will be able to make more sense of those. Now for the rest of it."

The stern-looking witch cleared her throat. "Anya Grigorovich, Tmima Mystirion, Greece."

"We know who you are, Anya," complained Croaker.

"So far," continued Anya, "all these 'breakthroughs' are descended from squibs cast out of the magical world and into the mundane community."

"That's what my department reports as well," said Aris. "It appears that the Change did more than just give everyone in the world a headache and rid us of one Dark Lady. The squibs are no longer entirely unmagical but what they can do are fairly impressive."

"Anything they do, we can do better with a wand," stated Anya.

"Not all of them," said Aris. "Still, this gives us an opportunity."

"How so?" asked Bruce.

"If the muggles see something they can't otherwise explain, why - it was just one of these squibs using their strange abilities. Right?" Croaker snorted at the idea. Less work for the Obliviators sounded good to him.

"Right, though they're calling them different things. Here in the states they're calling them 'mutants' for some odd reason," said Aris.

"In Greece, we refer to them as gods-touched. Theoi-angixan. For now."

"Superheroes and supervillains," said Croaker. "Don't understand the reference but whatever."

"'Unfair competition' is a frequent comment I've heard," said Bruce. "People using their 'freaky powers' to get an edge in business is what I'm hearing. One bloke is able to sniff out gemstones like some pig after truffles."

"Hold on now. Some families have been turning out their squibs for generations," said Croaker. "Others, like the Malfoys, tend to kill them off. Call it a mercy killing."

"Barbarians," said the Japanese man in his own mirror.

"Agreed," said Croaker.

"All the ones so far have been triggered by something happening that they witnessed - usually something that would have killed them or killed someone nearby," continued Aris. "In each case it seems that their personality and the situation influenced how their abilities manifest. In each case those abilities don't change afterwards though they get more skill and control as they go."

\- break -

Place: MI5 HQ, Time: April 4, 1980

"You are to head up the new Office of Metahuman Management," said Howard Smith to his guest. "It was debated at length and having a specialized department dealing with these abilities and keeping track of assets was decided necessary."

"That I'm an Esper-type dealing with information is probably why I was brought in," said Madeline McManus.

"We had several agents of MI5 and MI6 who had Breakthroughs, no doubt due to finding themselves in hazardous situations on a regular basis," said Smith. The Head of MI5 shrugged one shoulder slightly. "Your Talent was one consideration. The use of codenames is unfortunately similar to the American comic book conventions but the reasons for such are valid. Your codename is currently given as White Hawk."

"THAT is going to be changed as soon as I get a chance," said McManus.

"Your choice then," said Smith. "Just don't use an existing codename to avoid confusion." He pushed a list across the desk to McManus. "This is a list of operatives who will be working under you with their codenames."

"'Scarlet Siren'? Telepath, isn't she?" asked McManus. "She'll be handy. I've worked with 'Trog' before - unfortunately his Breakthrough caused his body to shift so he's very recognizable. C-Rank with strength and durability enhancements. Heard he got banged up when Shockwave Sally attacked the Tower of London."

"He's recovering," said Smith. "Expected to be returned to duty within the month."

"How familiar are you with the wizarding world?" asked McManus.

Smith blinked. "I've been briefed but have no actual contact, why?"

McManus looked thoughtfully over the list before sitting back in her chair. "There are various races of magical origin who have had relations with non-magical humans. They have begun masquerading as Metas since the Change. I know of four who might make suitable operatives who could also act as go-betweens for the wizarding end of things."

"That will need to be approved, but I see no reason not to proceed as long as we don't do anything that have their 'Obliviators' run amok," allowed Smith. "Of course, if it goes wrong - that's entirely your call."

\- break -

Place: MI5 HQ Time: December 30, 1980

"Bloody hell," swore Madeline McManus, aka Mindshadow, formerly known as White Hawk. "What a Grade A Clusterdump. What have we got on this idiot?"

"It's being looked at as another 'Metahuman Mastermind Menace' by the press," said Scarlet Siren. "Wizarding folk are trying to cover up any wizarding stuff by dumping it under the umbrella of Metahumans - but it's all wizardly stuff. Voldemort is the name in the press, though we know his name is Tom Riddle and his merry little band are called 'Death Eaters' in the wizardly stuff but just known as typical masked minions. Press is styling him as a Metahuman Nazi type, feels that Empowered should be running everything."

"What about the wizarding police, aren't they supposed to be dealing with their own criminals?" asked Mindshadow.

"Politicians," said Siren with a sniff. "There's what they say, and then there's what they do. They're basically in a war situation and sending police to deal with the coverup. Stretched too thin for their numbers. Mind you - we don't exactly have huge numbers on our side either."

"Is this specific to Britain or is this an international war?" asked Mindshadow. "Like that European who does magnets?"

"There's groups that are international but this Voldemort is entirely concerned with Britain and specifically the magical society of England," said Siren.

Mindshadow tapped the paper on her desk. "This is the third small community where they've done 'muggle-baiting' according to their newspaper. Which apparently involves rape, torture, and murder. Even their newspaper doesn't seem to think it's so bad if it only happens to 'muggles' and only really gets upset about their own wizards dying off."

"Yes, well, that's what I understand of the wizarding world in general," admitted Siren. "There's even a school that encourages that sort of thing I think over in the Balkans. I think the name's 'Durmstrang' from what I've scanned of wizards hanging around that pub."

"We need to get more agents who can be effective against wizards," said Mindshadow with a scowl. "While brain-types are quite useful in gathering intel and the day-to-day work, we need some agents who can be deployed fast and come down hard on these terrorists."

"You mean to field a team like those 'X-men' in the Colonies then?" asked Siren. "So far, all we've gotten are a decent clean-up crew and a few decent operatives who operate alone."

"What about this 'Fixer'? Is he available?" asked Mindshadow.

"His Breakthrough was that train wreck caused by Scrapper last month, name's Daniel Granger, he's aiming to be a dental surgeon," Siren checked her notebook. "Interested in helping out if we can help out with his university bills but pretty busy with his studies. Got him down as 'Emergency Personnel' for when things go completely pear-shaped. Enrolled him in the First Responder training - that'll help."

"What's his powerset? With a codename like that I'm expecting back-up personnel," asked Mindshadow.

"Got him down as C-Rank," said Siren. "Brain-type. No good for that team you want, but a definite on-call for when there's injured civilians. Talent is defined as Structural Analysis. He can find weak points, fractures, diseases, extent of injuries or damage at a glance. When he's not using it actively he just gets a feeling when there's something 'off' - but he'll be invaluable for doing triage in disaster settings."

"Sounds damn useful," said Mindshadow. "What about this... 'Dreadnaught'? Sounds like what we need for a point-man."

"B-Rank. Very promising," said Siren. "Physical enhancement type. Strength and durability. Was on the train with Fixer. Only problem is that he's rated Shell-2 so it's really difficult to use telepathy on him. More interesting is that a wizardly type threw magic at him and he shrugged it off. Not sure if it'll protect him from the high end stuff though."

"Right, and my understanding of these Death Beaters is that they favor an instant-kill spell." Mindshadow thought a bit. "What about teeks?"

"We've got two," responded Siren. "A Teek-1 and a Teek-3."

"Teek-1 is that Patel fellow, right? He's better off in Covert Ops anyway," said Mindshadow. "What have you got on the Teek-3? That's about two hundred kilos - might be enough to block that sort of thing."

"Teek-1 is ten kilos or less, single object, line of sight," said Siren. "Teek-2 is roughly double but still within line of sight though if the object is familiar they can usually latch on. Teek-3 is considerably better. Our Teek-3 is too young to make an active agent though. "

\- break -

Place: Hogwarts School of Witchcraft & Wizardry, Date: September 4, 1981

Argus Filch was 26 years of age when the Change hit. He went another two years before, in a moment of frustration and anger, his Breakthrough hit.

It wasn't the magic he'd been denied since birth that had become a roiling envy deep within him. It was, however, better than nothing.

"Argus. Why are you wearing a mask?"

"Lots of them who have Talents wear 'em," said Argus, thinking it made him look at least slightly cooler.

"It makes you look like the Dread Pirate Roberts."

Argus smiled, not seeing the problem.

"No. Argus. You're going to traumatize the first years."

Argus continued to smile, still not seeing the problem.

"No. Argus. No masks. No capes."

"No?" asked Argus, losing the smile briefly. "I rather liked it."

"Your Talent, that of being able to see through an animal's eyes, does not require either a mask or a cape."

"Thought it made me look a bit dashing," grumped Argus as he took off the bandana he'd cut eye-holes in. The cape was a good one too - only had a few areas where the rats had chewed on it.

\- break -

Place: Godric's Hollow, Time: October 31, 1981

A hooded figure made his way up the streets of Godric's Hollow, wand drawn in his hand and power primed.

The Fidelius was already defeated thanks to his spy, and now another obstacle to his ascendancy was to be removed. That prophesy was enough to move them to the very top of his "to do" list.

A muggle backpacker, notable due to their ridiculous fashions, was wandering the street. A quick "Avada Kedavra" was almost an afterthought, tossed at the waste-of-space and not worth a follow-up glance.

He strode up through the Fidelius, prepared for the major battle ahead. Anti-portkey and anti-apparition wardings had been placed on stones which he simply tossed onto the property. They'd burn out soon enough, but it would keep them from using those means of escape until they could clear the area by other means.

"Woof," said a large dog.

A cutting curse was sent to deal with the dog, who dodged.

"Sirius Black," concluded Voldemort.

The dog then opened its mouth and threw a blast of flame his way.

"Or not," concluded Voldemort, who bracketed the creature with two Reducto spells and then finished it off with a piercing hex. That it dissolved into smoke was curious enough that he frowned at the spot it had fallen on.

At which point the door was flung open and Voldemort found James Potter hurling spells at him.

The battle was longer than Lord Voldemort had wanted, and he was harder pressed than he would ever admit. James Potter was damn good and quite capable of switching spells mid-stream.

If it had not been for all the rituals and sacrifices he'd made, the battle would have been even closer. The irony of the Fidelius now working AGAINST those who relied on it for protection was not lost on him, of course. It didn't matter how long it took to deal with each of the Potters as no help could possibly arrive.

Once he'd finally managed to shift the ground under James Potter's feet and throw him off balance enough for the Killing Curse to strike, Voldemort turned his attention to the upstairs bedroom.

THIS was going to be tougher, as he well knew who was the more formidable opponent when you considered the pair. While he might talk about pureblood superiority - that didn't mean he actually believed it.

Naturally she was between him and his target. Naturally she begged for the child's life. Naturally he led with the Killing Curse. To his considerable surprise though - she didn't dodge or use various items in the nursery to block the curse.

The child was the next target and then something went horribly wrong.

\- break -

Peter Pettigrew had followed his master, feeling a twinge of regret at having two people he'd once called friends being slaughtered. Better than him, but still something he could feel some small measure of wishing it hadn't come to this.

Then the little cottage just sort of exploded in green light. Which was bad enough by itself, but had Peter realizing that staying right where he was sounded like the most prudent course of action. Everyone in the Marauders knew darn well that Lilly was a particularly strong witch and damn good at potions, charms, transfiguration, and runes. The house exploding, Peter put down to a fight between his new Master and Lilly. Lilly would lose, of course, but nobody who knew Lilly would expect it to be over very quickly and without a few explosions.

At which point a flicker of movement drew his attention and he saw some of those oddly-dressed muggles appear. Well, even-more-than-usual oddly-dressed muggles. Really, the faux-leather and padded armor bits and strange colors were entirely too much. Reminded him of some of Dumbledore's outfits.

Best he scurry away as a rat and hide until the Master appeared.

\- break -

Minx was one of those in the know about the Wizarding World, even though she was descended from a squib on the Malfoy line two generations ago. MOST squib-descents more than one generation removed didn't know a darn thing about the whole Masquerade and Statute Of Secrecy and so on. SHE did. So when the fat greasy-looking man disappeared and a rat took his place before scurrying into a storm drain - she knew what she was looking at.

Minx tapped her com, built into her mask. "Minx here. Wizard on site, probably Death Eater or ally, shapechanger - rat."

"Roger Minx. Scanning area. Odd effect dissipating on cottage. Analysis?" came the reply from Scanner.

"Magical home. Usually has some wards and protections, if centered on a home the destruction of that home will bring down those protects. Has to do with magical definitions and such," responded Minx.

"Okay," said Dreadnaught's voice over the coms. "What the blazes was the screaming black cloud that shot off into the night?"

Scanner replied, but his voice betrayed uncertainty. "Not sure. I saw it, but it's one of those cases where I'm not sure how to interpret what I saw."

"There's a baby there," said Minx, using her stealth-field to investigate further. As a stealth-type she was usually one of the first to investigate a potential crime scene, though Scanner being a sensor-type worked with her fairly often. "Tracker applied to blanket and to child. Backing off."

"Any chance you can get one on the rat?" asked Dreadnaught.

"No, he's already alerted to your presence, I'm good but not that good," said Minx. All powers had their limitations and vulnerabilities after all. Her ability to Sidestep into a Shadow Dimension was no exception to that rule. She wasn't like that idiot in the news over in the Colonies. Idiot had gone into one of their banks throwing plasma jets around to rob the place and was shot in the back of the head by a guard.

"Got multiple incoming. Too little too late. Typical wizards." That was Scanner again, she wasn't sure what he was looking at.

"Teleporting in 3. 2. 1." Gateway again. Minx just wished she could do the teleport thing without it feeling like she was being squeezed through one of those twisty straws and spat out the other end. Rather unpleasant.

\- break -

"So the child was dropped off on a doorstep IN NOVEMBER?" asked Mindshadow. "Are these wizards insane or just lacking in anything resembling common sense?"

"Not the first time we've asked that question," said Siren. She also helpfully pointed at the wall poster which had the quote attributed to Voltaire: "There is nothing common about common sense."

"That's one of those questions that is worth asking more than once," replied Mindshadow. "Okay, what about Team Britain?"

"Team Excalibur, the PR and public face team," said Siren. "Captain Britain led his team to deal with that Lord of Undeath in Brighton. Raising up zombies to serve him and conquer the world of the living? Yeah, even the anti-meta press is saying that putting that guy away is a good thing and it required specialists. Doesn't mean they have anything good to say about us - but they're not saying anything bad for once."

"Take what we can get," said Mindshadow. "Investigate this child, maybe use that dentist since he doesn't want to be an agent but wants to help out. We could use more contacts in the wizard world and I'm also concerned about the welfare of the kid. I'm not a precog, but I have a feeling something's going on here more involved than just a wizardly lack of common sense."

"Actually, he's a dental and maxillofacial surgeon," corrected Siren. "Though, yes, he's frequently referred to as a dentist."

\- break -

Place: Little Whinging Elementary School, Time: October 15, 1986

There were Covert Ops agents, and there were Overt Ops agents. Captain Britain and his team were the ones in the spotlight, wore the bright uniforms, took the heat from the newspaper and television editorials, fought the metahumans who decided to screw laws and society-at-large and do the supervillain schtick.

Covert Ops was a bit more to his liking. If he had to work publicly, he had a motorcycle helmet and riding suit that had a few "Emergency Personnel" idents that otherwise concealed most of his identity. You could get height and approximate weight and that he was male, but that was about it.

Daniel Granger was more than happy to supplement his income a bit and help out the homeland at the same time, more so when he was putting himself through medical school than now. Structural Analysis allowed him to tell a lot of things about a lot of subjects, but it had two major pluses in his book. First - he could use it without any visible change. Well, someone like that Scanner bloke could tell when he was using it but that was a major exception. Second - he could use it at his chosen profession and alleviate suffering in patients.

So, when he'd met Emma Crouch he'd known she was a Latent (which just meant someone who had not had their Breakthrough but had the potential for being a metahuman) and he'd attended the course on the whole hidden magic society so he knew she was likely descended from some outcast from that group much as he supposedly was.

One time, during a date with her, he'd gotten paged and had to apologize and go off on an errand. He hadn't realized she had followed him.

When the anarchist known as Troll had grabbed her as a hostage, he'd expected her to have a Breakthrough but she never did. Still, afterwards she knew something was up and ended up getting the story from him. AFTER signing a non-disclosure agreement, of course.

They'd married, and a child had been born and he'd known immediately on seeing her - not a metahuman but a full wizard. Witch. Whatever. He rather preferred wizardess as it lacked the religious notes of the term witch - and he'd known a practitioner of Wicca back in college and was not at all prepared to have any daughter of his going around "sky clad" with her friends in the woods. Or a lot of other places quite frankly, thank you very much.

So, as he was a medical professional and acquainted with the "wizarding world" in that he'd started studying up on it a LOT more since Hermione's birth, he was the natural choice to check periodically into the well-being of a child left on a doorstep who was apparently of wizardly heritage.

Which led to a quick medical exam, with falsified but perfectly documented identification as part of a program within the schools. After examining twelve other children, writing out diet changes for two and having one sent for further follow-up, he finally came to Harry Potter.

Scanner was able to see energy in various forms as well as had extra senses beyond that. Reader was able to touch an object and know its history. Sybil got glances of what-may-be and what-will-be and was slowly trying to figure out which was which. Between them and him, they were the Home Office's Sensor Corps.

Sybil had said the child was important somehow. That fate or karma or whatever-it-was swirled around him. Scanner said the house had some pretty strong wards on it, the child had other wards on him, and that there was a Wrongness around that scar on his head.

So when he examined the child around Hermione's age it was with all that in mind. Unlike Scanner, he couldn't see energy to the same extent though he could tell there was something very much Wrong with that scar. Unlike Sybil, he couldn't see the boy had a Fate laid upon his shoulders. Reader had said there wasn't much he could tell - as his abilities didn't extend to living objects and he didn't have much excuse to try.

What he COULD tell was that the child was malnourished, had been struck, showed signs of emotional abuse, and was smarter than he let on.

What he had to do was compose two reports. One for the school officials as part of his cover, the other for his superiors at the Home Office.

Whatever the case, there was absolutely NO excuse for sending the child back to an abusive home.

\- break -

Place: Office of the Headmaster, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft & Wizardry Time: October 18, 1986

Albus Dumbledore had noticed two days ago when one of his little knick-knacks began tilting its axis of spin. It had produced a moment of worry as it indicated something had changed at Harry Potter's new home. Still, the spin continued though - indicating the wards were as strong as ever.

An owl from Arabella Figg the previous day had indicated something was up, but the squib didn't know what other than muggle authorities were involved. She was an easily excitable squib though - so it was most likely nothing to really be concerned about.

Well, this would just be a moment to deal with - so that was fine. It was a pity he couldn't simply delegate the task as he'd already had to do this on four occasions so far. Really, was it too much to expect that the muggles would have enough sense to just leave a child alone and not meddle in things that didn't concern them?

Well, they were muggles after all - one couldn't expect them to have any sense at all.

"Well, Fawkes, we're off to nudge things back to save the world again," said Dumbledore, putting out an arm for the phoenix to light upon.

With Fawkes he could go there immediately and determine who had to be obliviated with a few new memories put in. It was important that Harry grow up without friends or adults that cared about him - the more ties he had to the muggle world the less likely he would be to stay in the wizarding world. Not very likely he'd turn down magic, but those regrets might cause the child to be reluctant to completely abandon that inferior world. No, it was a bad situation but it was really for the best.

The owl from Arabella Figg arrived again, another letter. Really, what was up with the woman?

"Now, Fawkes," said Albus Dumbledore, not bothering to read the letter since he was going to Privet Drive anyway.

The world disappeared in fire, and for a moment Dumbledore wondered if something had gone wrong as he was looking at a house whose upper floor was in disarray. Which is to say that a good portion of it was simply not there.

Number 4 Privet Drive was looking a bit singed about the edges as well as missing a chunk of that upper floor.

"Accidental magic?" asked Dumbledore of Arabella Figg as soon as he'd reached her home on Wisteria Walk.

"No, it was Black Tom Cassidy from what I overheard," said the squib.

"'Black Tom'?" asked Dumbledore, aghast at the name.

"Not HIM," said Figg. "Another fellow. Irish, I think. Mostly causes problems overseas from what I hear but engages in mercenary work according to the Times."

"Oh," said Dumbledore, deciding to research that a bit later. Some Irish mercenary reported in the muggle press, so just some muggle. Maybe one of those IRA fellows? "And Harry?"

"You didn't read that letter did you?" asked Figg.

"Scanned it for important bits," said Dumbledore. "I am, as you know Arabella, quite a busy individual."

"Picked up by medical," said Figg. "The Dursleys are off to Australia. Apparently Grunnings decided to use this chance to fill a position overseas."

"Ah," said Dumbledore. "Well, I'll nip down there and change a few minds and they'll be back shortly."

"Harry, on the other hand, is in the States," said Figg.

"What?" asked Dumbledore.

"He won some sort of lottery, apparently, it was in the letter," said Figg. "Xavier's School for Gifted Children. Think that's one of those Americanisms, meaning handicapped or special needs or something."

Albus Dumbledore sighed. WHY did life have to be so complicated?

\- break -

Place: Happy Harbor Marina, Jamaica

Black Tom Cassidy put the newspaper down. "Question. How the blazes am I in England when I'm here in Jamaica?"

"Time travel?" asked one of the minions.

Black Tom Cassidy blinked, cocked his head, and considered that. "You know. As crazy as life can get anymore - it really wouldn't surprise me that much."

That minion nodded and went back to work on the boat's engine.

Black Tom considered things for a minute and went back to his Guinness. For all he knew it could be shapechangers or aliens or shapechanging aliens. Life as a mercenary mutant supervillain was many things but boring was rarely on the list.

\- break -

"Why Xavier's School?" asked Mindshadow. "I understand wanting to redirect any hunters away from us, but why there?"

"First off, it's overseas and not as accessible to British authorities," said Siren. "Second, there's a path there who's stronger than I am."

"You're the strongest telepath in Great Britain and there's one stronger than you in a school?" asked Mindshadow.

"You're rated Speak-1, Hier-1, Clair-2, and Shell-3," said Siren. "I'm Speak-3 and Hier-3 and Image-2. Shell-2. He's at least Hier-4 and Speak-5. Probably a good deal stronger. Feeling him go by in the mental realm is like being a small animal when an elephant goes wandering through your territory."

"Oh. So basically anyone attacking that school to 'rescue' young Mister Potter will be charging into a lion's den?" asked Mindshadow.

"Something like that," agreed Siren. "I've taken the liberty of sending a message their way, forewarning them of this and asking if they've got any magic-specialists that might drop by and take a look at the child. No reply so far."

"Still a bit wrong to direct any magical meddlers towards a school," said Mindshadow.

"They've got Logan there," added Siren.

"Oh," said Mindshadow. "That's different. My sympathies towards anyone who goes in with their wand blazing then. Where is he really?"

"Putting him up over at Moira's place," said Siren. "Permanent quarters there but a couple of other safehouses to rotate to."

\- break -

Place: Saferoom A-14, Time: December 5, 1986

"Why exactly am I here?" asked the man.

"You're a werewolf," said one of the men in the suits.

"I have no idea what you're talking about," said Remus Lupin.

"You're a werewolf, and therefore someone with a disease that gets you discriminated against in magical society, and therefore someone who has trouble holding down a regular job," said the same man in the suit.

"Is this some kind of fantasy novel?" asked Remus Lupin.

"Don't worry about the Statute of Secrecy," said the other man finally. "Everyone listening in is already quite familiar with the magical society."

Remus looked from one to the other, not saying anything.

"This isn't an interrogation, Mister Lupin," said the first Suit. "This is a job interview."

"Excuse me?" asked Remus.

"We want to get you training. Private investigator. You'll have a safe room for your 'time of the month' and be part of a team," said the first suit. "You've heard of Excalibur?"

This got a reaction from Lupin that was momentarily unguarded. "I don't look good in spandex."

"None of the various individuals wear spandex," countered the more talkative Suit. "Most of the active in-the-spotlight types wear a combination of kevlar and gore-tex and similar body-armor. The closest we have to spandex is along the line of motorcycle racing suits. The Yeoman is the most flamboyant but his outfit was entirely his own creation and is mostly historically accurate."

"Not familiar with that one," said Remus, a little relaxed now that he knew he might be dealing with muggles but these were hardly normal folk.

The first Suit pushed across the desk a set of papers. "Training, equipment, and a steady salary. Your connection to the magical world remains hidden."

"So, something like that fictional Mister Bond? A codename?" asked Remus, who found the idea of a steady salary quite attractive despite his reservations.

"Yes, tentatively you are 'Detective Wolf', but you can change your codename when you come up with something you are more comfortable with," said the Suit. "Providing, of course, you hire on with us. There's another benefit to you personally - but you'd have to sign on with us in order to be informed of it."

"And if I don't sign, you'll what?" asked Remus.

"Not speak to you again, Mister Lupin," said the first Suit. "We're MI5, the Department of Metahuman Management. We're a government agency that has oversight from various other departments. While we have Covert Operations - our tax records are a matter of public record. It's just that you'd be identified in such by an employee number."

Remus Lupin admitted to himself he WAS somewhat desperate. Having his little "furry problem" was a major downside to any job he tried to hold down. "A detective?"

"Something which allows for irregular hours and has a specialized skillset which can compliment some of the other talents we have on tap," said the Suit.

"I'm listening," admitted Remus.

\- break -

Place: MI6 saferoom "Crighton-4"  
Time: March 15, 1987

"Is it normal for MI5 and MI6 to poach each other's employees?" asked Remus Lupin. He was doing a bit better now that he was eating regularly and was going through training in the whole Private Detective business. Even had some seed money for the business as long as he took the occasional job for MI5.

"Normals? Not at all. Those with magical or 'metahuman' talents? Well, it's not 'poaching' so much as temporarily borrowing specialists," said the Suit who was subtly more expensively dressed than the Suits he was used to working with over at the in-country branch. "It's all for the same cause - keeping the homeland as safe and prosperous as we can despite what you might see in the cinema or telly."

"Why me then?" said Lupin. He'd been over this one way and another since the initial contact and that question had been one that he kept coming back to.

"You speak four languages and are used to working overseas," said the Suit. "You have contacts in Greece."

"I see," said Lupin. "You're aware of..." This was a different suited type, and he wasn't sure how thorough the briefing.

"Your 'furry little problem'? Yes. This is supposed to be a straight in-and-out. If, for some reason, it is NOT - there is an armored van with a cage that has been made available for the period in question."

"Ah, I see," said Remus Lupin.

"Though we're also working on a vaccine," said the Suit.

"Excuse me?" asked Remus Lupin.

"Sir, you are the fourth werewolf we've got on temporary contract status," said the clearly-amused Suit. "The werewolf curse has a viral component that is only active during a certain period. Bit of a trick though. Still, we've got some good initial results from scent-based treatments while we work on something a bit less likely to wash off in the rain."

"Scent?" asked Remus.

"Werewolves smell to other werewolves of human-prey but also not-prey," said the Suit. "The application of a not-prey component scent apparently registers to a werewolf in that form as a nascent werewolf and therefore not-prey."

Remus blinked at that as he processed it. If the families of a wolf could do that, then a family member could remain just outside the cage of a werewolf and not drive the beast into a frenzy. It might not hold up to a detailed examination by the wolf, but it was something that nobody on the magic end of things had come up with yet. Having someone there during that time?

Remus decided to go ahead and address an issue. "Why do you smell like a dog?"

"Ah, my codename is Huntsman, Mister Lupin," said the Suit. "I'm what they call a 'Talent' - I can calm animals in general but my main focus is with the dogs I work with."

"You didn't use anything on me," said Remus.

"Not necessary," said Huntsman with a shrug. "Also, you're not currently canine."

"It took me a bit to place it, but you also smell like someone I used to know," said Remus.

"Ah, that's classified, but I'm regularly assigned on bodyguard duty," said Huntsman. "Got seven dogs of various breeds that are good at a number of things, but all of them are pretty good at sniffing out trouble."

\- break -

Time: October 31, 1989 Place: MI5, Sub-basement 4. "The Cortex"

Harry Potter turned nine years old. Prior to the Dursleys losing control of him, he'd not exactly celebrated birthdays. He'd watched Dudley celebrate his own birthday but that was about it. Which meant that this was the third birthday where there had actually been cake and presents.

His first celebrated birthday had come as a shock to him and he'd not been able to enjoy it as he had been waiting "for the other shoe to drop" or something similar. Trust came slowly and he'd only been with the new people a couple of weeks.

His second celebrated birthday he'd known that nobody was telling him the whole truth. Something was going on and he didn't know what. They would tell him later, they promised.

He rather liked hanging around the Excalibur Base however. He was told that the base had a number of defenses up, and that someone who wanted him back with the Dursleys would find him if he left the base, which really was enough reason to stick around the place. And there was so much to do!

Brian Braddock called him a "little sprog" but it was an affectionate nickname and it hadn't taken long for him to get a basic concept through his head. These people cared about him. HIM! Harry Potter the little unwanted freak who had been told that repeatedly throughout his stay at Privet Drive. Even the suit-wearing people had a few individuals who genuinely cared about him and wanted him to do well.

So here he was at nine years of age, and considering what to wish for when blowing out the candles to a birthday cake he'd never thought he'd see just a few years ago.

An emergency alert had just gone off and a "Crisis Response Team" had been sent off to deal with it. From what he'd overheard, it had been that Juggernaut fellow. Also according to what he'd overheard - the guy had started pitching a fit about the lack of salt on his chips or something. Otherwise he'd have been left alone as there would have been too much property damage trying to apprehend the fellow for anything outstanding.

Harry Potter had several people around to celebrate his birthday despite the lack of Excalibur and the Crisis Response Team. One of the large TVs was on Sky News which was covering the confrontation live, and just about everyone present winced when Juggernaut demonstrated that his strength and durability level exceeded Captain Britain's.

"How does he do that?" asked Harry, pointing at the screen.

"Yeoman? His ability is fuuinjutsu. He seals an object inside another object," answered Siren.

"So he seals bowling balls inside of arrows?" asked Harry as the fourth bowling ball in a row bounced off of Juggernaut's helmet.

"He seals other things inside of arrows as well," said Siren. "See? He just used a Tear Gas Arrow."

"Doesn't seem to bother that armor guy," observed Harry.

"He's using tear gas and smoke to obscure Juggernaut's vision," said Siren. "We can't use anything too big inside a city, so we're trying to harass him and lead him away from the population."

A fifth bowling ball bounced off Juggernaut's helmet with a loud bong and a resulting yell from the supervillain in question.

The next arrow became a large blob of pink paint and glitter.

"Oh, NOW he's mad," said Siren as Juggernaut apparently figured out what that had done to his armor.

"Found out what set him off," said one of the technicians working a computer.

"What? Someone undercooked his fish?" asked a supervisor.

"No. There's a burlesque place down there called 'Juggs Or Naught' - and he apparently saw that," said the technician. "Went over and knocked on the door. And by 'knocked' I mean busted the door down with a chunk of the front wall."

"Understandable he'd be a bit upset then," said the supervisor. "Name and reputation mean something to mercenary types."

"Yeoman's speeding off on his motorcycle. Juggernaut's pursuing."

\- break -

November 30, 1989 Eyes Only, Department Heads Memo

It has been determined that the events of November 13 were the result of the the Other Ministry deploying strike forces in what they felt were dangers to their Statute Of Secrecy. Five groups of their operatives attacked five locations and carried out what they term "Mass Obliviations" on personnel and civilian targets. One was specifically attempting to reclaim a specific personnel resource.

Current count is that forty-seven operatives were compromised by such means, six supervisors. Eighteen civilians were victims of mental assault for being in the vicinity. Of this number, seven operatives and three civilians suffered from side-effects that continue to be treated. Four deaths among operatives and two civilians were also among the deceased. Among the operatives killed was Huntsman (Keith Perkins) and four of his canine familiars due to an explosive blast believed cast by Albus Dumbledore. As a result, on sighting of Albus Dumbledore, all operatives and agency heads are to attempt to withdraw from vicinity.

It is not believed, at this time, that the use of the attack spell was entirely planned but may have been because his dogs were seen as an active threat.

One other high-level operative was killed as a direct result of mental contamination. Minx was unable to fully utilize her abilities and suffered from the effect known as "splinching" due to instinctive use of abilities being compromised by her mindwipe by assaulting forces.

Initial analysis of those continuing to require treatment is that all have abilities within the "Psychic" or "Mental" category and are less than Shell-2. Advanced training in resisting and recovery from mental assaults will be required of all active duty personnel as soon as the program can be put together and scheduled.

Funeral arrangements for Huntsman and Minx will follow.

\- break -

December 12, 1989

Harry thought the bright sunny day (for December at least) was somehow inappropriate. He'd met Minx only briefly, and perhaps seen her three times. Huntsman had been something altogether different. The usually well-dressed dog-handler had reminded him a bit of that John Steed fellow from that old telly program that came up on late night. Except that Steed did not have dogs that could do what Huntsman's dogs had done.

Four of the dogs were buried with Huntsman. The German Shepherd, the Rottweiler, the Corgi, and the Papillon (or Rex, Tex, Harpo, and Moptop) had been killed by the same assailant. The adults had tried to keep him from learning what had actually happened, but he wasn't completely clueless. It had been an attempt to get him, and an assault on the whole agency that had rescued him from the Dursleys, and people had died.

He'd rather liked Huntsman and his dogs, who had all been rather smarter than average due to Huntsman's abilities being used on them regularly. They'd died as the result of some sort of explosive effect, though Harry didn't know who had done it or precisely why other than someone had been after him.

People who had valued him enough that they had died protecting him.

Some of the people around him were still acting like they could almost remember something, or looked distracted by something else. Most of them looked sadly at him when they thought he wouldn't see that.

He hated that.

Harry glanced around the group attending the funeral. Someone had died trying to protect him. Would any of these others die for the same reason? Why was someone trying to get to him anyway?

He'd been told about the magical world, and how he'd be attending a school later. How he had to keep things secret and why he was being taught this Occular-Mancy stuff.

Harry wasn't sure what to think about all this yet, it would take awhile for him to sort it all.

\- break -

Time: July 1, 1991

Place: Muir Island, Metahuman Research Facilities, Mutant Subdivision, Conference Room A116

Doctor Moira Kinross MacTaggert was a geneticist primarily, though she had a couple of other qualifications that were a little less known. One, she was one of the major specialists in metahuman studies. Two, she was a muggle - but one who was quite aware of the wizarding world and familiar with the way the societies of three such groups operated: Australia, Britain, and the United States. Because of her status as a muggle, she was not welcome in any of the three wizarding societies and she kept her involvement to a minimum as a result. She was also aware that the "mutants" were actually descended from a squib line and that their "mutant powers" were actually magical abilities finding a single area or channel of release.

That was not precisely her current concern.

The owl had initially been flagged as a Pet, which is to say someone who had the beast-speaker ability was associating with this particular animal. Beast-speakers typically had a few animals they regularly interacted with - it getting easier through regular association and the animal was then capable of more complex interaction due to heightened mental development.

That it carried a letter was not all that unusual either. Ravens, owls, even a few hawks and one bat - all used for carrying messages from those with beast-speaker abilities. Some beast-speakers could only use their telepathy with specific animals or narrow species, but this was not always the case. Those that could use fliers did usually have at least one of suitable size for courier duties.

It was the particular letter and the address upon it that brought it to her attention within an hour of it arriving.

"Full wards, security lockdown," said Moira into an intercom. "Level One. Authorization MacTaggert oh-four-five-nine-seven-three."

"Acknowledged, Doctor," came the brief reply.

That done, Doctor MacTaggert looked over the unstamped envelope with the calligraphic script.

Harry Potter Dormitory B-302 Mutant Research Center Muir Island

"You didn't open it?" asked Moira MacTaggert.

"No, ma'am," said Harry. "Used the tongs to handle it. Is it what I think it is?"

"I think so, it even has the return address," said Doctor MacTaggert. She tapped a different button on the intercom. "Who do we have who can scan for magical effects?"

"On site?" asked a woman's voice from the intercom. "We've got... oh. We've got Detective Lupin, he's visiting."

"Send him up, all due speed," said Moira. "We've got Harry's Hogwarts letter and I want to make sure it's not a portkey."

\- list of chara -

Abdali, Faroush. (Dreadnaught) MI5 Overt Ops agent in Beta Squad. Magical enhancement in physical strength and durability. Shell-2, Shield-3. Rides an Agency-provided motorcycle (Triumph TR7) with multiple enchantments.

Braddock, Brian. (Captain Britain) MI5 agent in Overt Ops squad Excalibur. Physical Reinforcement Field. Flight. Uniform has runework and enchantments to enhance his abilities.

Cassidy, Tom (Black Tom). Supervillain. 6th gen squib. Ability: Heat and energy projection through wooden objects. Proj-3.

Clearmane, Sally. (Mustang Sally) Centaur who was accidently teleported into downtown London. Currently works as a courier out of Sussex and goes with the cover story that she was summoned from another universe. Independent who refuses to become part of any group, who nonetheless often finds herself mixed up "in that nonsense" anyway.

Figg, Arabella. Observer for Albus Dumbledore and breeder of Kneazles. Aware of Metahumans but dismisses them as not being up to wizardy standards.

Filch, Argus. Squib, caretaker at Hogwarts. Able to see through the eyes of animals so long as he's touching the animal to forge the link and then maintain the link until he loses concentration. Frequently uses the ability with a cat.

Georgh, Rudolfo (Troll) Anarchist supercriminal who primarily goes after governmental targets. Enhanced size, strength, durability, regeneration. Brags about having the "strength of a hundred men" though it is actually closer to four or five as he's only able to press about 700kg under optimal conditions.

Granger, Daniel (Fixer). Covert Ops with MI5. 4th-gen squib. Breakthrough in train attack. Ability: Structural Analysis. Scan-2.

Harris, Ralph. (Trog) Overt Ops, usually fire and rescue. Physical mutate with enhanced size, strength, durability, and stamina. Has been likened to the fictional character Lurch from "Addams Family" which he frequently plays up.

Jackson, Katherine. (Minx) Covert Ops team with MI5 DMM. Ability was to access a shadow subdimension in order to Sidestep (short range Teleport), or merge with shadows to hide. Died shortly after the 11/30/89 assault by magical forces on "muggle" government offices due to obliviation of control of her Talent.

McGregor, Corin. (Scrapper) Supervillain with the ability to absorb and redirect kinetic force. Currently in prison for four counts of murder, two cases of robbery, and fifteen cases of assault.

McManus, Madeline. (Mindshadow). Speak-1, Hier-1, Clair-2, Shell-3. Agent with MI5 with experience in both covert ops and office-end work. Administrator of the Department of Metahuman Management.

Owen, Daffyd. (Yeoman). 1st gen squib who found that his Breakthrough allowed him to use fuuinjutsu (Japanese sealing arts using etched or written symbols to store one item within another) to place various objects into arrowheads. Part-time agent and part-time independent. Gets into arguments about motorcycles with Dreadnaught, despite both riding Triumph motorcycles.

Perkins, Keith. (Huntsman) Operative whose "mutant ability" was telepathic communication with canines. Maintained several dogs of various breeds. Killed by aurors during the November 30 1989 assault while trying to protect Harry Potter from reclamation by Albus Dumbledore.

Reddings, Donald. (Scanner). Ability to see in multiple spectra as well as mass/energy deformations.

Simmons, Abigail. (Scarlet Siren). Speak-3, Hier-3, Image-2, Shell-2. Mission coordinator for MI5's Department of Metahuman Management and frequent associate of Weird Happenings Organization.

Sinclair, Rahne. (Wolfsbane) Associate of Remus Lupin.

Stuart, Alistair. Director of the Weird Happenings Organization (WHO) which is an investigative branch that is primarily "mundanes" but are in on the Statute Of Secrecy.

Tichborne, Sally Ann. (Shockwave Sally). Supervillain currently in prison for multiple cases of destruction of public property and assault. Magical control of earth and rock, favors creating shockwaves through the ground by stomping on it. Frequently gets into fights with Mustang Sally.

Vickers, Annabeth. (Bombard). Mutant Ability: Able to generate telekinetic balls of force that destabilize explosively at range. Primarily works as bomb disposal.

\- break -

Esper Ratings are a rough power rating system going from 1 to 5, with 1 being having a base ability and 5 making them world-class in that Talent. Speak or Spiek is ability to speak to someone else's mind. Hier is the ability to hear or see thoughts. Clair is the ability to see and/or hear a distant location. Shell is the ability to resist mental or magical attacks. Shield is resistance to physical attacks. Port is teleportation.

Left things here because Harry needn't go to Hogwarts, he could easily end up in Ilvermorny or a "minor school" instead of one of the major ones. Harry could have ended up in Hogwarts, and things could go a variety of ways thereafter.

i had a few ideas regarding the Australian School, and how all the memes regarding how dangerous it is over there being true as far as their magical world - but JKR is likely to come up with a canon version and invalidate that so i'm not going there.


	15. Chapter 15: Challenge

i've seen various challenge-fics out there, so thought i'd try one.

Potter Replacement Duties

A setup for a challenge.

"Problem, sir."

Chrono nodded at her subordinate. "What is it, Bat?"

Bat made a gesture to bring up two holographic displays. "Harry Potter timeline. Failure node. Interference pattern two line delta mauve."

"So send him back along his past to incarnate," said Chrono, shrugging one shoulder. Not exactly standard practice but they'd had to do that a few times. What did the mortals call it? A 'Peggy Sue' or something like that. Weird as there were no pegs or lawsuits involved.

"He refuses."

"Oh?" asked Chrono. The subject had to give some indication of wanting to fix things - even if they didn't use certain words to express that precise desire. Well, there was always a work-around. "Who can we insert in his place?" If you couldn't use the original Harry Potter - make one.

"Already checked," said Bat. "First volunteer to be reincarnated into place was a 'Prince Vegeta' as long as he can remain a 'Saiyajin' or so."

Chrono looked over the display and nodded. "Well, his hair's messy enough and adding the genetic markers is easy. Who else?"

"Second volunteer was a Shiro Emiya. He put in a request that a Saber named Arturia be incarnated there as well."

"I suppose that wouldn't be a problem," said Chrono, looking over the second profile. "Ah, he's already familiar with some form of magic. That's good. Any others on this volunteer list?"

"Obito Uchiha. Says he got screwed over on his last life and wants to try being the Big Hero," supplied Bat.

"Everyone gets screwed over. That's life," commented Chrono, squinting at the picture. "Odd looking eyes."

"There's this guy," said Bat, bringing up the next profile.

"Rei Suicho Ken? Martial artist type?" asked Chrono. "Don't know how well that would work in a wizard war."

"Izayoi Sakamaki," said Bat, bringing up another holographic image. "He's a bit of a difficult case though."

"Couldn't do worse than a Harry Potter that just refuses to show up," grumped Chrono. Why did some people just HAVE to be sticks-in-the-mud and get all bent out of shape because of trivial concerns anyway? He could have just gone back after making a deal for some power-up instead of flat out refusing.

"Kara Zor-el, who insists on being a girl if you're going to insert her, apparently she's been kind of lost since her universe got erased or something," said Bat.

"Well, I can see where that would be the case," agreed Chrono, still a bit distracted.

Bat brought up three more candidates.

"Ranma Saotome? That's been done before, hasn't it?"

"I don't think so," responded Bat. "What about her?"

Chrono glanced at the image and this one actually managed to shock her a bit. "Seriously? Isn't England an island? Would there be anything left?"

"Well, there's this one," said Bat, bringing up another profile.

"Okay. Let's go with..."

So, basic setup. Someone who is not even remotely like Harry Potter ends up being inserted into Harry Potter's life. Things don't quite fit, with the intent that Hilarity Ensues.


End file.
